A Talon by Any Other Name
by Loxare
Summary: AU. The Acrobat is a Talon, living in the Court of Owls, waiting for something to change. The day it does, it is not at all what he was expecting. But he takes to the new Talon whole-heartedly, taking him under his wing, hoping he can be the big brother he feels he was meant to be. Rated very high T for violence, not slash, no swearing.
1. 1 - A Light in the Darkness

**A Light in the Darkness**

* * *

It had been so long. So long, existing in the shadows, not living, never dying. He didn't remember his name. He didn't remember who he had been before. There were no mirrors down here; he saw own his face so rarely that it was an effort to remember what he looked like most of the time.

He was Talon. He had been working for the Court of Owls for... he didn't know how many years. He thought it might be four. On his last assignment, he had noticed a calender, tacked on the wall of his victim's home. Of course, that was assuming he remembered the year he had started as Talon, and he wasn't sure he did. So it was either four, or it was twelve. He hoped it was four.

Most of his days were spent wandering the labyrinth of the Court, memorizing passageways, sparring with other Talons whenever they ran across each other. If he was needed, he would be called. If he was successful, they would allow him to continue wandering. If not, he would go into cryo sleep. More often than not, he was successful.

The days ran together. Or, he thought they were days. There was no light down here. If he got tired, he simply dropped to the floor and rested. The Court left food lying around so he didn't starve. He wasn't sure he could starve, but not feeling hunger pain was nice.

All in all, nothing changed. Wandering lead to assignments lead to wandering. That is, until he heard something. Something that he had never heard down here before. The labyrinth was always silent, except when Court was in session. Then voices bounced around the twisted halls, becoming increasingly distorted until all that was left was pitch and tone.

Then one day, something changed. It took him a minute to identify it. The voices were bouncing as they always did. As usual, all that was left was the pitch and the tone of the adults who surrounded him. And something else. It was higher, but not womanly. It was enraged, and scared. A child. There was a child in the Court.

For what he had hoped were the past four years, he had been the youngest in the court. When he had started, he had been the same size as his victims nine year old children. Children who had fallen under his knife for the crime of witnessing their parents murders. It had been what the Court had ordered, and the Talon always acts as the Owl commands.

Curiosity drew him closer to the center of the maze, the Parliament room. He was hesitant – if he found the child, they might order him to kill it – but he couldn't stop himself. He stopped just outside of view, but close enough to see.

The entire Court was in attendance. Expressionless, white masks were all turned to the center, where a Talon held a small form by the hood of his sweatshirt. "Talon Alexander, why have you brought this to us?"

Alexander, one of the Talons who had been alive long enough to merit the return of his name, gave the child a shake. Unperturbed, the boy, for it was a boy, kept struggling and shouting. "This is a street rat I have seen a few times above. Today, I found him in the labyrinth. When I caught him, he gave a decent fight. He has potential."

Another Owl, one of the more conservative ones, spoke up. "We have no need for a new Talon. We have the Acrobat."

The Acrobat. That was all he was called. Until the day when the Court decided he was worthy, he had no name besides Talon.

Another Owl countered, "We will always have need of new Talons. The Bat has been snooping around, increasing his influence. We will require all the tools we can if we are to defeat him."

The Batman had been making a nuisance of himself since before Talon had become Talon. For the most part, the Court's business never ventured into Batman's sphere of influence, but every once in a while, he would disrupt the shipping of some item that the Court needed. In return, Talon knew that the string of unsolvable assassinations had the Bat both curious and frustrated.

The Grandmaster sat quietly while the Court argued around him. Finally, he raised his hand. The silence was sudden and absolute, except for the boy still trying to struggle his way out of Alexander's grip. "We shall take the boy. If Alexander believes he has potential, then he could be a great asset. And Gotham will hardly miss this one. There are a hundred like him in any five block radius. Get him cleaned up, and then prepare him."

Alexander bowed. As he turned, most likely to go to the pool Talons used for washing, the boy was briefly visible to the Acrobat's eyes. And for the first time in so long, he felt something.

 _Mom? Do you think I would make a good big brother?_

 _Of course! You are so kind, and caring._

 _Can I have one then? A sister? Or a brother? I'll feed them and walk them and play with them and-_

 _Silly boy. Siblings aren't pets. But we'll see._

The voices were familiar, and not. One was bright and childish and playful and wonderful. If his voice hadn't been dead and cracking, it might have once been that one. The other was warm and feminine, like a woman he had once overheard telling a child they could not have more ice cream, not until tomorrow. And they rang in his head like a bell.

The child in front of him was no older than ten and had dark hair and blue-green eyes. He was scruffy and dirty and he kept lashing out with his feet, kicking at Alexander's side and leg uselessly. And if the child-that-Talon-had-been had ever thought about having a brother, this boy would look exactly like he had imagined. He was so full of life, and being Talon would destroy this boy, just as being Talon had destroyed the Acrobat.

But he could do nothing for him. He would be cleaned, and he would get the electrum injection, and he would be trained. And he would be watched night and day until he was ready for assignments.

That was it then. The child would be Talon in body, but the Acrobat would stop him from being Talon in spirit. On the night of his first outing, he would take him from here. He would run from the Court. He would flee for eternity and he would keep the boy safe.

This, he promised.

* * *

Jason had done a lot of stupid things in his life, but stealing Batman's tires was probably the pinnacle. Of course the Bat had found him. And after losing his tire iron – seriously, hitting that guy was like hitting a brick wall; what were his abs _made_ of? – he just had to go and fall down a manhole. The Bat had been following him, so he'd kept going, splashing through the sewers, barely noticing when the ankle deep water gave way to white polished stone.

When someone had grabbed his shoulder, obviously he had though it was Batman, trying to drag him to the cops or foster care or something else among those lines. So he had fought back. And now he was going to be made into what? A Talon? That couldn't be right.

He knew the nursery rhyme as well as any other Gothamite. Beware the Court of Owls, blah blah. They didn't really exist. But it looked like they did and they were going to make him into their tool.

Like he was going to let that happen. Not that he could stop it. The Talon that was still holding him by the neck was really strong. He definitely wasn't going out without a fight though. So he kicked, hard enough that the Talon held him at arm's length. Sally the corner girl had taught him a few moves for getting people to let go and he used all of them. Pulling back fingers to break them, thumb nails jabbed between the tendons in the wrist, every pressure point he knew of in the one arm he could reach.

Finally, the Talon reared back and tossed Jason away. His sense of victory was dashed the moment he landed, not on rock as he had expected, but in frigid water. He resurfaced sputtering, only to get grabbed again.

The next stretch of time – he wasn't even sure how long it was – was the most disturbing in his life. His ratty clothing was ripped off of him, literally, seams tearing and everything. It had been crap, but it had been all he had. Some other Talons showed up, one helping the first one hold him down while another started scrubbing at him. And none to gently either. After blasting off the dirt caked to his skin, they proceeded to take off the first two layers of skin. And they got _everything_. He cried out when they grabbed him _there_ at the memories that surfaced. Too many close calls, some closer than others.

Throughout it all, the Talons kept their faces blank and expressionless. He was almost grateful. They only reacted when he kneed them in sensitive areas, and even then it was just to dunk him under until he ran out of air. The water dragged at his limbs, making every movement agony.

At the end of it, they tossed him back on shore. Completely naked, he was far too cold and tired to do much more than lay where they dropped him. He did try though. Reaching out with one hand, he pulled himself across the floor, ignoring the way small rocks scraped across his thighs, leaving bloody furrows in their wake. He couldn't really feel his legs anyway.

Slowly, as if they had all the time in the world, the three Talons walked past him. The last one grabbed him by his neck and dragged him after them. He grabbed at the fingers, but didn't have the strength to break them.

The walk took an eternity. He was fairly sure he passed out somewhere in the middle. Finally, his feet raw and bleeding from where they had been dragged on the floor, the Talons stopped in front of a door. They turned to him. "Before we lose the chance, tell us your name."

What did they need that for? "Go... f-"

Before he could finish his sentence, the Talon holding him lifted him and slapped him full across the face. "Some day, you may earn the right to have your name returned. Tell us or lose it forever."

He was so tired. He hadn't eaten at all today. The Bat's tires were supposed to be his next meal. And yesterday he'd only had a bun and three pieces of moldy cheese. With running from the Bat, fighting his captors, and that stint in the freezing cold pool of water, he didn't have the energy to resist anymore. "Jason."

The Talons nodded and opened the door.

Before them was a large stone coffin, with tubes protruding from the lid and reaching up to the ceiling. It took two of them to lift the lid, revealing the countless needles extending from the underside. If he had been thinking clearly, Jason would have realized what it was for much sooner and tried to escape again. As it was, he didn't, not until he was lying in the coffin, the lid dropping down on him.

As the needles entered his skin at every point on his body, he screamed. Liquid fire swam through his veins, simmered in his muscles, settled in his bones. It felt like all his organs were melting, reforming, changing. He cried out for his mom, for Sally the corner girl, for Mr Turner who used him as a punching bag. For Aloysius, that French guy who argued with Walter about everything and gave Jason quarters when he sided with him. For Mabel Mackenzie who chased him off with a broom every time she saw him. For anyone and everyone he knew, regardless of their relationship to him. Anything would be better than this. Tears streamed from his eyes, stopping when the fire reached them. His screams were cut off when it reached his lungs. Eventually, he could only lay there paralyzed, dying in his own skin.

* * *

The Acrobat sat curled in a side tunnel. He had watched as Alexander and Henry and Ephram washed the boy as if he was nothing more than an inanimate object. He had watched as they dragged him to the room, threw him in the coffin and started the electrum treatment. He sat and listened as the boy screamed and cried and shouted names. He listened as the boy fell silent, not willingly, but because the electrum was strengthening his lungs. He listened as the boy died and became immortal.

After he was done, the Talons still in the room would take him to cold storage. He would stay there, frozen, for three days. Long enough for the electrum to settle without killing him. Long enough for the Court to wipe away his memories, his name, his everything. The Acrobat cursed himself again. The boy had said his name, he had heard the Talons ask for it. But he'd been to far away to hear the whispered word. As silently as he could, he ran off.

He needed to get away from the cold stone halls. He wasn't allowed above ground, not without an assignment, but the sewers were fine. Maybe if he was lucky, he would find an open manhole and he could see the sky, the sun. Coming across his first manhole cover, a small frown of disappointment crossed his usually inexpressive face. No light coming from the little holes in the cover, no chance at seeing the sun today. Or tonight, as the case was.

Twenty minutes into his wandering, he heard splashing. It wasn't heavy enough to be Croc, and it was too late to be a maintenance worker. For the second time that night, his curiosity got the better of him. He crept closer, making less noise than the minnows swimming in the water.

"I lost him. He's probably wherever he stashed the tires, planning to pawn them somewhere. ... Don't smile like that. I know you're smiling in that way you do. Yes, I can fail at things too. Just send the new tires, alright? And prepare a mechanical kit. Clearly, I need to upgrade the security system on the car. ... No, he was just some kid. Stop smiling. When I get back to base, we're going through the traffic cams. Maybe we can follow him back to his hideout, get the tires back. ... No, I don't have an ulterior motive. ... Fine, yes, I want to help him. He's just a kid. ... You didn't see him. He had spunk. If Gotham hasn't broken him yet, maybe there's hope for him. ... He shouldn't be too hard to find on the cams Alfred. It's the middle of winter, most people are wearing winter coats. All he had was a hooded sweater. ... Red. ... How long? ... Alright, I'll go topside and meet the tires then. See you in a few minutes."

He sat in his auxiliary tunnel, mind whirling at what he had just heard. Some guy was looking for the boy. Some guy and he apparently wanted to help. If he made a noise, if he lead the man back to the Court...

No. That wouldn't work. Maybe the man could save the boy. But if he did, the child would die. The only ones who could keep him alive for the rest of the electrum treatment were the Talons and the Court. And by then it would be too late for the boy. Gotham had done its best, but it had nothing on the Court. If he wasn't broken by now, he would be soon. And all the Acrobat could do was watch and wait. Wait for the time when he could pull his br- fellow child-Talon away from this life. Hopefully before the boy could take his first life.

Whisper silent, he stole back down the tunnels. He was getting tired. He would check on the child, then find a tunnel to sleep in. If he didn't get an assignment tomorrow, he would check on the child again. Above all, he couldn't let the boy become Talon. He couldn't and wouldn't.

* * *

 **AN: Hello! Back again with a new story! Hooray! This one is an AU, obviously. A Talon one, again, obviously. And some warnings for heavy violence. Honestly, I am not nice to my characters in this one.**


	2. 2 - Snuffing out a Candle

**Snuffing out a Candle**

* * *

He opened his eyes. He couldn't... remember. He was so positive that there had been something there, but now there was nothing. He... who was he? There had been a... a... started with an n. Name! That was it. There had been a name he had called himself, and that others had called him. What was it?

"Talon." The voice boomed out, echoing through the cavern. How had he gotten into a cavern? Before, he had been in a... not-cavern? And what had the voice said? Talon? Was that his name? That didn't sound right. It had the right amount of... um... syllables, and some of the sounds seemed right, but it wasn't the same. It... it wasn't. But the voice was still talking. Maybe the voice would tell him who he was. "From now on, you will serve the Court of Owls. In exchange for your gift of immortality, you will heed our every command."

Well that didn't sound right. But his body moved without his consent until he was kneeling, and his mouth moved on its own. "I will serve. Your faintest wish is my command, your bidding my law. I am Talon." As he said it, he started believing it. He was Talon and the Court was everything to him.

As he spoke, his eyes raked across the assembled Owls, seated high above him. Lined up below them stood the Talons, the ones who he would be joining. He already wore their uniform. The Owls were speaking again. "Very well. The Acrobat will be your trainer. Cobb will be your handler. We expect to see progress in the next week."

The Talons dispersed, except for the broadest and the smallest. Second smallest, he supposed, looking up at the Talon. After a quick introduction, the Acrobat started to explain the Court. "Most Talons stay in cold storage when they're not needed. We keep one or two awake to guard the Court, and one to complete assignments. I was on assignments, but until you are trained, Calvin will take over. Cobb shall decree your life until he decides you are ready for assignments. He says when you train, rest and eat. Disobedience will be met with punishment. You will heal any injury from now on, but the Court still knows how to inflict pain."

He learned much. The Acrobat talked as he fought. And this was a fight, not a simple spar. The Acrobat talked to him about how the Court functioned right up until Talon messed up and broke a bone. He corrected him, and continued. The Court was home to around twenty Talons, all from different eras. The Acrobat had been the youngest, young enough not to have earned his name back yet. And until they found out his skill set, he would be referred to as Hood, a nod to what he had been wearing when they had found him. Which had to be the most unimaginative name in history.

Finally, after hours of the Acrobat pounding him into the floor, he didn't get back up right away. The Acrobat looked to Cobb, who had been leaning on the side, simply watching. There was a barely perceptible shake of his head and the Acrobat nodded. Grabbing his arm, he pulled him back to his feet and attacked, not giving the newest Talon a chance to get his bearings. He fell again, and the Acrobat pulled him up. This time, he couldn't even get his arm up in time to block. He was blasted halfway across the room.

Cobb strode forward. Grabbing his hair, the older Talon pulled his head up. "You will fight when I say fight. You will cease this weakness or you will suffer for it."

Something foreign crossed the Acrobat's face. "Cobb, maybe-"

"You are not his handler, Talon! You are merely his trainer, and if I say he continues, he will continue."

He should be trying to stand up. He knew he should. But he couldn't. Despite the many hours since he had been thawed out, it felt like the ice was still in his bones. It was an effort to lay there, it was agony to breathe. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he should be hurting from the beating that the Acrobat had given him. But all the bruises and cuts faded without a trace, leaving him exhausted and uninjured.

Roughly, Cobb pulled his hair, yanking him up until he was standing. Leaning in close to his ear, close enough for the Talon to smell his acrid breath, he whispered, "If you block this next strike, you may have a rest. If you do not, you will regret it." He released the new Talon's hair and it took all of his concentration to keep his knees under him. Cobb backed off and waved to the Acrobat.

Taking a ready stance, the Acrobat flipped towards him. When the other Talon was close enough, a blade flew out, aiming right for his heart. Completely reflexively, he raised his arm. He deflected the blade, wincing when it sliced through his shoulder. With his other hand, he landed a light touch on the other's elbow, the hardest he could hit.

Both boys stopped, and turned to Cobb. The Hood didn't like the look on his face. "I told you to block the strike. You still got hit with it. One hour in the punishment chamber, followed by another hour of training. We'll see if you're up to following orders then." Reaching out, the man grabbed his hair again.

Allowing himself to be dragged behind, he caught a glimpse of the Acrobat, waving goodbye with a weird look on his face. Pity? Compassion? On a Talon? He hadn't been Talon very long, but he knew those were foreign concepts. Maybe they had been foreign for much longer.

Cobb dragged him through the never-ending twists and turns. He passed out, an action that felt both familiar and frightening. Like he had done this before and it hadn't led to anything good. The feeling turned out to be true. The room they ended up in was empty, save for a stone chair festooned with straps and chains. His shirt was removed and he was thrown bodily down, and strapped in before he could run.

Walking to the wall, Cobb opened a small hidden cupboard and pulled out a bottle and a syringe with an extraordinarily long needle. "This, Hood, is something the Owls found, centuries ago. I don't know what it is. None of the Talons do. All we know is it reacts badly with the electrum, halts it temporarily. Now the problem is, the electrum changed you. It changed all of us. And it is the only thing keeping us alive. This will kill you with a large enough dose. Luckily for you, the Court seems to want you. No idea why. You're just a useless street rat. Still, it's just a small dose today." Jabbing the needle into the top of the bottle, he slowly filled the syringe. Once he reached the dose he needed, he pulled it out. Tapping the side, he got rid of any excess air. "Here's what's going to happen Hood. This will enter your blood stream and cause immense pain. I will be adding to that pain in any way I see fit. In an hour, the medicine will wear off and everything I did will vanish. Then we'll go back to the training room. If you impress me, you will get some rest. If you do not, it'll be back here. Do you understand?"

He didn't have time to answer. Quick as lightning, Cobb jabbed the needle into his chest, straight to his heart. The serum flooded his arteries, cold, so cold that it felt like his blood was freezing, frozen shards ripping him apart from the inside out. At the edge of his awareness, he noticed Cobb striding towards a new cupboard, this one filled with a million knives. He chose four and walked back.

The first knife thudded into his shoulder. As did the second, and the third. With the fourth, Cobb made a shallow cut all the way down his forearm. Then another, right beside it. Grabbing at the skin near his elbow, he pulled up, and started slicing the skin from the muscle. He stopped at the wrist, not even cutting the skin off. He just left it dangling.

Cobb continued working until his entire forearm was a flayed, bloody mess. The Talon strapped to the chair had by this point blacked out twice, each time being revived by a stinging slap with the flat of the blade. But he hadn't screamed. He refused to scream. Not because he thought it would impress Cobb and maybe he could have a rest after this. Ok, maybe a little bit that. But mostly because he didn't want to give Cobb the satisfaction.

He had seen people like this before. Or, he thought he had. People who smiled and laughed as they hurt others. Cobb didn't smile. He was a Talon. But he did dive into his work with gusto and excitement, more so whenever a groan escaped the new Talon's lips. Maybe if he didn't get a reaction, this would become boring, and he would stop.

Or maybe it would become a challenge and it would get worse.

Either way, the new Talon stayed silent. He tried to distract himself. So he thought about the only other Talon he had interacted with, the Acrobat. His training had been difficult. The blows had landed hard and fast, and the flips that Hood was supposed to emulate were ridiculously difficult to do. But none of the hurts had lasted long. The hits that landed barely bruised and the hits that he didn't dodge only cut shallowly. The Acrobat had tried to defend him in front of Cobb, which he appreciated, even if it came to nothing.

Hm. The Acrobat. Cobb. Names. The Acrobat had said that if he proved himself, he would get his name back. So he had had one. But now he was Talon? He didn't feel like Talon.

It wasn't just physically, although that did play a big part. Even covered in their uniforms, he could tell that Cobb and the Acrobat had been in perfect physical health. Him? Not so much. His arms were little more than sticks. Head slumped, he could count the ribs on his chest.

 _ahhh, that one hurt, don't scream, what did he do, did he take a bone out of my arm? don't scream!_

Where was he? He definitely wasn't the picture of fitness. More like a starved child. Had he been a starved child? That wasn't just it though. He had an idea in his head of what Talon was. Obedient unto death, impossibly skilled, never quitting, never failing, never seen, never heard. He wasn't any of these things.

Maybe he would be one day. Most of these things really appealed to him. If he was stronger, faster, more skilled than everyone else, no one could hurt him again. If no one knew he was there, no one could break his heart. But he didn't think he could do obedient unto death. Sure, he could follow orders, but he didn't want to just follow without thinking. Not only that, but Talons killed people. He wasn't sure, but he was pretty sure that was wrong.

 _oh god was that a rib? don't, cobb pulled out a rib and that's not where that goes, don't scream!_

He felt something shift. "Well then. Looks like it wore off. But don't breathe easy yet. You still have to heal."

And this was probably worse. Cobb had taken out a rib and put it back near the bottom of his stomach. Now, the new Talon could _feel_ it as it plowed through his organs, trying to find its place again. His arm bone, that had been tossed half way across the room. It was horrible and itching and aching as his body pulled nutrients it didn't have to regrow it. The skin hanging from his arm like a peeled banana started worming its way back into place, alternating between burning like hell and crawling like a million insects. His left hand had been cut off, and the sudden burst of sensation as it reattached itself was worse than losing it. Finally, there was a creeping, sucking sensation as the three knives in his shoulder pushed themselves out.

Once he was healed, Cobb stepped up and unstrapped him, pulling his shirt back on roughly. "You're lucky you're new. You wouldn't have healed half as fast if you were my age." He grabbed Hood by the hair and began dragging him from the room the same way he had dragged him in. Once they got back to the training room, the Acrobat was in the exact same position, as if he hadn't moved in this entire time. Cobb deposited the Hood in the middle of the floor. It took everything he had not to fall straight to the hard tile.

Again, the Acrobat didn't hesitate. He surged forward, long handled knives already flashing out to catch him in the shoulder. Honestly, he should have fallen again from a hit like that. But he didn't. Instead, he got a strange surge of energy. He pulled the knife out, and used it to block the next attack. And the next. Then he managed to get a hit of his own in.

For the promised hour, he fought with everything he had. He managed to land quite a few attacks on his opponent. As he went, Cobb grew more and more disgruntled. Eventually, he snapped, and grabbed the Acrobat mid-swing. "What did you do?"

"Nothing." The younger Talon's face was inscrutable.

"Don't lie to me boy. We both know he was dead on his feet before."

"Then perhaps it is time for a rest. We wouldn't want to ruin this Talon before he lives up to his usefulness."

There was silence for a moment. The new Talon was suddenly afraid for his trainer's well-being. Cobb clenched his fist and pulled it back, sending it flying to the younger's face. It was a hair away when the Acrobat caught it. "You are not my handler. You are not my trainer. I may not have a name, but I have been on assignments. If you wish, I will fight you. But I will not take your abuse." Roughly, he tossed the fist away from his face. "The hour is up. I am taking the Hood to find food and rest." Not bothering with a goodbye, the Acrobat turned on his heel, grabbed Hood gently but firmly by the arm and dragged him from the room.

It wasn't until they found a plate of food lying on the ground, at least ten minutes later, that the Hood finally found his voice. "Are you crazy? How could you talk back to him like that?"

"Here, eat this." It was a sandwich, and it had clearly been here for a few hours. He was fairly sure he'd eaten worse though. "Eat fast. The adrenaline I gave you will wear off in a few minutes and you will be out like a light."

"Adrenaline?"

"If you're talking, you're not eating." Why was he shoving sandwiches into his pockets? "Yes, adrenaline, on the knife I stabbed you with. While you're asleep, I'm going to petition to be both your handler and trainer. Rare, but it's happened before. The footage I collected from the punishment room will help."

As soon as he finished his sandwich, another was pressed into his hands. "Why?" Seriously, why? He had no reason to do that. They had only just met. There had to be a catch.

"I have my reasons." Definitely some sort of catch. "Don't worry, I'll stash you someplace safe while you're resting. Cobb won't find you."

"I..." Wow. He staggered, his sandwich falling to the floor. "I think... um..."

The Acrobat leaned in, looking at his eyes. "It's wearing off. Calm down." What was wrong with his voice? Or was it his ears? "Don't panic, just let it take you. You'll be-" But he never found out what he would be. Darkness swam into his vision and he collapsed.

* * *

Grabbing the Hood when he fell, he smiled at the suddenly peaceful face. Carefully shifting the boy so he was riding piggy-back, he grabbed the sandwich off the floor and started walking. There was a place, about half a mile from here, that he had found last year. It had been a small divot in the wall behind a painting, but he'd slowly and carefully opened it up, until it was a hollow just big enough to hold him. And plenty big enough to hold this boy.

Just before he put the painting, a lovely thing with some of the Court members from the early 1800's, back in place, he pulled all the sandwiches from his pockets and stacked them neatly at the boy's elbow. The hollow already had a stash of water bottles in it. He was much too light. In this line of work, he would need all the nutrients he could get. Not just to build muscle mass, but for healing. Talon's healed at an incredibly accelerated rate, but if there were no nutrients in the system to regrow tissues and replace blood, it would take from muscle and bone, weakening the whole. From how his arm had broken with a light hit during training, that is exactly what had happened during punishment.

Yet another point in his favour for his appeal. The Court didn't want broken Talons. They would push them to the edge of their limits and beyond, but a broken Talon was a waste of the electrum used to make it. Cobb was a terrible handler, even worse than he had been as the Acrobat's trainer. If the older Talon had his way, they would have gone back and forth from training to punishment until Cobb himself got tired.

He took one last look at the boy's face. How could this be? He was a Talon, an emotionless killer, but he already loved the boy he now saw as his brother. He closed the painting and set off for an audience with the Court.

* * *

When he returned, more than half a day later, he was exhausted to his bones. The Court had agreed to his appeal, provided they had some real progress at the end of the week, enough to go on assignment. If not, Cobb would be reinstated as handler, and Uriah would take over training. Taking a quick peek behind the painting, he smiled at the boy still sleeping. Closing the portrait, he lay beneath it. If it opened, he would know. Just a quick... rest...

According to his internal clock, he had slept for four hours when the painting opened again. He sat up and stared at the boy. He was looking better already. The electrum had put the sandwiches to good use, filling in muscle that had been worn away during earlier healings. His colour, still the deathly pale of Talon, wasn't as sickly as it had been before, which meant that he had had a few bottles of water.

Struggling to keep a smile off of his face, he greeted his new charge. "Hello. The Court has allowed me to be your handler. In five minutes, we will head back to the training room."

The boy looked wary, but nodded. He probably didn't know what to make of the Acrobat. That was fine. Plenty of time to form an opinion when he went on his first outing. Just a week. A week and he could get them both out of here.

He leaned against the wall. "Our training will mostly focus on putting you into physical fitness. You are severely under weight. I have requested that meals be taken to the training room, large ones. Don't worry about getting sick on the portions. Talon healing prevents that. Four hours of combined exercises, cardio, weights, endurance training, followed by four hours of martial arts training, four hours of weapons, and six hours of sparring. Six hours of sleep, plus adequate time for rest and food. If you fail at this, Cobb and Uriah will take over." The boy didn't look as scared at this as he should be.

Standing and grabbing Hood's face with both hands, he forced the boy to look at him. "I will not punish you as Cobb did. But if he takes over your training again, it will get much worse. He will ruin you and the Court will toss you into the bay. With our enhanced healing, it will take a very long time to die. Do you understand me?"

The boy slapped his hands away. "Why do you even care? I know where they found me. I'm just a street rat. Gutter trash. I'm nothing."

He slapped the younger on the back of his head, not hard, but enough to make a point. "You are not. You are Talon and you are too young to _be_ Talon. But I was too. I know how it is and I know how a bad trainer can break you. I will make you a perfect Talon, and I will do it without resorting to Cobb's methods."

"So that's it? You just want to one-up the older Talon?" He actually snarled. It was just a bit cute. A baby-Talon trying to intimidate the more experienced Talon, who had seen much worse than a little snarl.

He almost told him. How he saw the younger boy as the sibling he had always wanted. How he didn't want him to fall, not like he had. How he wanted to save the child from a life of murder and bloodshed. But he couldn't. The Court could be watching, listening. He had to keep his intentions to himself if he wanted to be successful. So instead, he simply said, "If that's what you want to believe. But also believe that I am the only one who can get you through this without destroying you."

"Well, who trained you? You said that you had been my age when you started." Ah, perceptive.

A bit off the mark though. "I also had an electrum tooth implanted at a very young age. I bonded better, and quicker with the electrum serum when I received treatment. I was well fed and already physically prepared for this life. You are an underweight child, with no prior experience with electrum, who just so happened to be a decent fighter. The one who trained me was prepared to train someone with my background. No one is prepared to train you. But I am the youngest, and less set in my ways. I will alter my training program to accommodate you. Now let's go. Five minutes is up."

The week flew by. The Acrobat talked almost the entire time, correcting Hood's stances, his grip, telling him better ways to do things, more lethal areas he could aim for. It was a good thing he was chatty, or he never would have been able to do this. A steady stream of food filtered into the room, brought by lower class Owls, ones who had money but no social standing. The Acrobat made sure that the boy ate all of it. Eventually, he started looking less like a starved mouse and more like a Talon. The electrum allowed him to bulk up faster than he would have if he hadn't had it. But the Acrobat made sure that his muscles stayed on this side of lithe. It was better to be a mobile fighter than a strong one.

As he trained and fought, the Acrobat grew to know and like Hood even more. He was sharp and sarcastic and never without a retort or quip. Fast to anger, quick to attack. But he was also eager to learn, eager to please, and just a bit insecure. As subtly as he could, the Acrobat tried to build his self esteem. He wasn't entirely sure he was successful, but the boy's smiles got less sarcastic and more sincere as the week wore on.

The days passed, and the boy's endurance built, they took fewer rest breaks. The Acrobat was able to combine martial arts and weapons on day four and eliminate weights on day five. By the time day seven rolled around, the boy had the physical fitness, mobility, and fortitude that was required of all Talons. He would be tested, sent out on an outing, for a last view of the sky. Then, he would be conditioned, and the Court would break him. He would be a murderer.. As his handler, the Acrobat would most likely go with him on the outing. It was then that he planned on taking them both away.

They had taken off their Talon uniforms to train, replacing them with workout sweats. Stripping the filthy clothes off, they replaced their suits and headed down to the Parliament room. The Acrobat was a little bit proud. It hurt, seeing the boy he saw as his brother wearing the pitch black suit and stylized domino mask of the Talons, but he had gotten so far in so little time.

The boy listened as the Court explained all they expected of him. Then they set him against Alton, one of the better fighters. Not as good as the Acrobat though. Even if Hood hadn't been able to best him, he took down Alton handily enough.

 _Say it. Say he's ready._

The Grandmaster pondered the Talons before him, then raised his hand. "Very well. Alexander, you will supervise the Hood's outing. William, Uriah, you are on perimeters. Ephram, Henry and the Acrobat will be going back to cold storage." The Court dismissed, the Talons separated to their tasks. The boy gave the Acrobat a small wave as Alexander led him from the room.

What?

 _What?!_

But... but the handler always went on a Talon's first outing. How had Grandmaster known? His plan, to take them both away from here, ruined in one moment. He had failed his little brother.

* * *

Alexander led him out of the maze, into the sewers, then out a manhole. Quietly, they stole away, taking to the rooftops, heading towards downtown. Why did he have a bad feeling? Along the way, Alexander filled him in. "As a Talon, it is your duty to know every street and alley in Gotham. Today, we will see how much you already know."

The Hood nodded. He could admit, he wasn't really listening. He was looking. And everything looked familiar, but not. It was an itch, in the back of his mind. Like something he had known, but didn't? The angle was wrong, too high up, but he had seen that shop. And that street vendor.

Soon though, they left the vaguely familiar streets and crossed into more prosperous neighbourhoods. He didn't recognize any of this and told Alexander so. The older Talon nodded, then they continued.

They circled the city twice. In the end, he had the areas called the Narrows, the East End, the docks and downtown already memorized. The other areas, the areas full of middle class and higher, were a complete blank to him. Alexander simply nodded, as if this was expected, then brought him down again.

As the manhole closed above him, he took one last look. The sun was beginning to rise, painting the sky a gentle blue. He had been trapped underground for more than a week. How long would it be until he saw the sky again? With a sigh and a rueful smile, he gave it a little wave. He'd see it again. They couldn't keep him underground forever. Even Alexander got out, and he was ancient!

He followed Alexander back down to the Court, feeling lighter than he had earlier. But the bad feeling, tickling at the back of his head, wouldn't go away.

* * *

He'd lost track of time. A week, five seconds, four years, two days. It could have been any of them. None of them. And still the screaming continued.

He should have known. He had had a bad feeling. He wasn't sure, but he thought those were to be trusted. And still he had followed Alexander, he had allowed himself to be put into this room.

And the screaming!

It never stopped. How could there be so much screaming?

He hadn't slept. He hadn't eaten. There was a small trickle of water flowing down the wall. It tasted stale and gross, but it was all he had.

...

How long now? Wasn't this over yet? If he hadn't been a Talon, he would have gone deaf days ago. Days? But his ears kept healing, just so he could hear the awful screech. He tried bashing his head against the wall, to get the sound out. But he healed that too.

...

The screaming stopped! They took him outside the room, the awful white room, and into another. This one had a man in it.

"Kill him."

He shook his head. Killing wasn't right. He shouldn't do that.

They put him back in the room.

...

He was laying on the floor. He had been bashing his shoulder against the door, but that had gotten old when his arm broke. Again.

Wait. Something was different. The air tasted different...

Suddenly, he wasn't alone in the room anymore. There was a man. A man he didn't recognize, but his heart beat quickened at the sight of him. Carefully, the man pulled his belt from his waist.

" _What'd ya say to me boy? Say it again! I dare you!_ " His words were punctuated by sharp slaps with the belt, landing on his arms, his face, his chest. Blows which did no damage, but he felt all the same. " _You're gonna learn some respect for your old man! I work to put food on this table and this is how you thank me? You're a worthless scrap of nothing, you hear! You're nothing, you've always been nothing and you're always going to be nothing!_ "

He curled into a ball, and tried not to listen; to the words, to the crack of the belt as it landed on his flesh, to the incessant _screaming_ , none of it.

Tried.

Failed.

...

"Kill him."

Another head shake. Back to the room.

...

It... The man... three times? Four? He... Why was... thoughts... he... ...

...

...

"Kill them."

There were six people in the room.

And the room was painted red.

* * *

 **AN: I'm not entirely sure if this chapter was convincing/understandable. Oh well. It'll probably explain itself later.**

 **To the Guest reviewer! I'm glad you liked it! I'm in love with the idea of Talons too, I just wish there were more stories to read on it. So I'm adding one. Plus, it gives me another reason to torment my favourite characters. Win win!**

 **To Rey the reviewer! I'm not sure what you're asking. Their ages? Well, as of this chapter, Jason is 10 and Dick is 13. But there's going to be a time skip in a bit. Yeah, the Court got these two young.**

 **Anyone notice? We got a cover! Hooray! I drew that one, so I don't even have to credit people.**

 **That's about it. Read and enjoy!**


	3. 3 - The Passage of Time

**The Passage of Time**

* * *

Just outside the city and deep underground, a window popped up on a stunningly advanced computer. A man, impeccable from his thin moustache to his polished shoes, turned to another, dressed in ripped Kevlar pants and bandages. "Sir, it appears your search has finally turned up."

Ignoring his injuries, to the never-ending exasperation of his butler, he bolted from the medical bed he had been sitting on to the chair in front of the computer. He had been running facial recognition on the boy who had stolen his tires, mostly in hopes of getting them back and only a little because he wanted to help the boy.

Fine. Maybe more than a little. He couldn't help but remember the other child he had wanted to help and lost. Little Richard Grayson had lost his parents right before his eyes and then vanished without a trace.

The boy in the red sweater was named Jason. Jason Peter Todd. He'd been arrested a few times. Tire boosting, destruction of property, theft. Always released, mostly because the property he had destroyed had been off-the-books drug trade. The one time he did end up in foster care, he ended up bouncing around until he just up and left.

One parent dead from overdose, one parent in jail for running with Two-Face. Alone for at least three years, probably longer.

Batman absorbed this knowledge. He remembered every facet of it. If he saw the boy on the street again, he would find a way to help him.

Time passed. He ended up adopting his neighbour Tim Drake when his parents were killed in an over seas archaeology expedition. Tim somehow already knew his secret, had been following him with a camera for years. Eventually, he started following him with a mask and cape.

Years later, and the Bat never saw Jason. The boy had probably been killed for stealing from the wrong crime lord. Once again, he had failed.

* * *

About a year after Hood had his outing, someone new showed up in the night. Someone dressed in red and black, and just a splash of yellow. He was sitting on top of a roof, waiting for Batman to come back from the fight across the street most likely, swinging his legs. As Acrobat watched, the boy shook his head, stilled his legs and put on a serious face. But after a while, his attention drifted and his legs started in their metronomic rhythm again.

Carefully, Acrobat snuck up on the little thing. He was done his assignment for the evening, and three hours earlier than expected, so he had time. The boy had his mind focused on the fight and didn't notice until Acrobat sat himself next to him. Then he jumped half a foot in the air and leaped back into a fighting stance. A fairly terrible fighting stance. It was kind of adorable, really. "Oh calm down. I'm not going to hurt you." No orders to do so yet. "So, haven't seen you around before. Who are you supposed to be? Mini-Bat?"

As Acrobat had thought he might, the boy bristled and rushed to correct him. "No! I'm Red Wing, and I'm Batman's partner! Who are you?"

"Talon." A look of surprise crossed Red Wing's face, so he rushed to change the subject. "Red Wing, huh? Well, if you're going to be Batman's partner, you need to work on your stances. I could knock you over easy with that one." Alright, to be fair, if he was fighting anyone with less training than Acrobat, he'd be fine. No thug would notice something like that, let alone know how to take advantage of it.

The tiny little bird child put on an affronted look. "Why do you even care? Batman said that Talons were assassins."

Red Wing went into a list of reasons why he shouldn't trust Acrobat, but he wasn't listening anymore. "Why do you even care?" Oh Hood. Acrobat hadn't seen him since training. Had he gotten through mental conditioning? Cobb had told him last time that they had used some of Scarecrow's fear gas, that it had "sped things up". What did that mean? Did he die from it?

This time, it was Acrobat's turn to jump when a hand gently brushed his shoulder. "Hey, are you alright?" Red Wing was trying to comfort him? After listing off all the reasons not to trust him?

He couldn't show weakness in front of this child. Not only would it tarnish his reputation, and the reputations of all Talons, but if the Court got wind of it, he would be sent to eliminate Red Wing. And he didn't want to do that. So he plastered a bright smile on his face. "Just fine! So, why are you up here and Batman is down there?"

Red Wing – hereby shortened to "Red"; Red Wing was too long to say in conversation – gave a great sigh. "Those thugs got their hands on an old form of Joker Gas. I don't have an immunity to that yet, so he stuck me up here. He's taking too long though." Pulling his knees up, Red wrapped his arms around them and plopped his chin in the middle. He looked worried. Acrobat stared, studying. He was about Hood's age, or how old Hood had been last time he had seen him. So... ten? Around there? Ten years old and jumping over rooftops. If Batman hadn't been completely anti-murder, he would be as bad as the Court.

This though, this couldn't be too bad, right? Red might not have Talon-healing, but he did have Batman to defend him. Although, considering Acrobat had been able to sneak up on him, that didn't have much weight. Any other Talon would have slit Red's throat. Twice to be safe. Batman wasn't here to protect his partner.

So he would just have to go get Batman. Batman was busy fighting thugs and not protecting Red, so Talon leapt off the building, and on to the adjacent one, ignoring Red's cry of protest. Carefully lifting the skylight, he slipped in, then surveyed his surroundings.

One of the thugs had gotten a lucky hit in. Batman's cowl looked a bit rumpled on one side, but he was still fighting. The three thugs left looked like they had had some sort of training, and were armed with a chain, two swords, and a baseball bat. Lovely.

Pulling out three throwing knives, he circled around until he was behind the thugs. Aiming carefully, he tossed the knives rapid fire. Each one landed in its target, the Achilles Heel. The thugs cried out in pain and their legs buckled. Batman clocked each one on the jaw, rendering them unconscious. By the time he looked up to try and see where the help had come from, the Acrobat was gone.

He landed gently on Red's rooftop, offering a smile. A genuine smile this time. "He'll be by soon. Just finishing up."

Red relaxed into his own smile. "Thanks. He doesn't take care of himself properly, you know? That's why I started coming out with him."

"Really?"

"Yup. Nights when I'm there, he comes home with less injuries than when he's alone."

"Hm. So Batman needs Red Wing?"

The kid seemed embarrassed to have it said out loud. "I guess so. But don't tell him I said that!"

"Only if you don't tell him you talked to me tonight." Holding up his hand when Red opened his mouth, he continued. "You might get in trouble for it. Consorting with the enemy and all that. Plus, then he'd probably ask you to get as much info as you can out of me and I don't want to put that kind of pressure on you."

The moment Red's head inclined a fraction, the Acrobat nodded. "Alrighty Red! Until next time then!" And with a final parting wave, he jumped off the roof.

That dawn, when the Grandmaster asked him for his report, he told him of the successfully completed hit. He told him of the large amount of crime he had seen, of the horrid state of the city. But he did not tell him of the tiny new shadow by Batman's side.

* * *

He was enjoying his job. He really was. He got to help people all the time, he got to work with his hero, Batman, and he got to work on his wit when he faced criminals. He got hurt sometimes, sure, but Alfred was always there to patch him up. He was always back on the streets within a week. He'd even survived his first encounter with a fully-grown Talon! And his second. And third... All in all, everything was going fairly well for him.

Right up until the small Talon started attacking him.

Not the first one, the one that looked about fourteen. Around there. No, this one was even younger. Maybe a year older than he was. It was hard to tell when the Talons always wore masks. Not that he could talk.

It had started randomly, three months after that first meeting on the roof top. He'd seen the happy Talon just a week before. They'd shared a basket of fries from a street vendor. They were greasy, and tasted like hot dogs, but they were perfect for mid-patrol food. Now, he was on a solo patrol – with the sincere promise that if _anything_ happened, he would call Batman – reminiscing, wondering when he would see the Talon again, when a tiny sound caught his attention. Motion at the corner of his eye had him whirling faster than he ever had before, catching a knife on his bo staff.

A Talon. This one didn't smile or speak, which was his first clue that it wasn't the regular Talon. The size difference, once the Talon had jumped away enough for him to get a good look, was his second. Another attack, another withdrawal, clearly, this Talon wasn't a friendly one. He raised his hand, ready to call Batman.

At speeds that would leave the Flash jealous, the Talon whipped his hand forward and pulled his comm. out of his ear, pocketing it. "Hey!" He cried as the Talon withdrew again. His opponent quirked a quick, sarcastic grin, then launched himself forward.

His first few strikes were caught by the bo staff, still raised in defense. Red Wing had to keep shifting his grip though. It was that or let one of his fingers get cut off. Eventually, the Talon dropped off, and nodded. Red moved his hands back to the original, more comfortable position. The Talon frowned and attacked again.

Eventually, the Talon sheathed his knives and started in on hand-to-hand. His feet swept at Red Wing's feet, pushing them further apart, trying to knock him off balance. Meanwhile, his hands somehow managed to get inside Red Wing's defenses, moving his elbows all over the place and screwing up his swings.

Whatever kind of fighting style this was, it was confusing. And effective. Annoyingly so.

Finally, the Talon jumped away, leaving Red Wing frozen in place. He was breathing hard, the fight had been going for at least twenty minutes, but something felt different. The placement of his hands on his staff, his entire stance. It felt... better? Less natural, he really would prefer it if his hands were closer together, but more effective. Slowly, he practiced a swing. Then quicker. Then at full speed and power. If that Talon got in his way now, with how he was positioned, he'd at least shatter a collarbone. If he wanted to. Which he really didn't. The Talon had helped? Why?

He turned, to ask that, and maybe thank the new Talon, but the rooftop was empty. All that was left was his comm., sitting on the ground where the Talon had been.

He picked it up and stuck it back in his ear. These younger Talons were very strange. He should probably radio Batman about it. He was pretty sure he could do it without telling him about the nice Talon. Hm. Maybe not though. He wasn't called the World's Greatest Detective for nothing.

Then again, it was Batman. He probably suspected.

But suspecting was different that _knowing_. Right?

Not for Batman. His intuition was almost always correct.

Red Wing struggled with this for the rest of the evening. Batman came in the car and picked him up, listened to his report (a few thugs, a purse snatching stopped, an aborted mugging or three, no mention of weird Talons), drove him home. They took their showers, got dressed in their respective pajamas, and Tim said goodnight as Bruce settled in for another late night at the computer.

He thought about it, debated telling Batman for a long time. Almost a year actually. In that span, he saw the younger Talon another six times. The second time, he stole his grapple and made Red Wing chase him halfway across town before he got it back. But he also left a map with every bolt hole someone of his size could crawl into before vanishing just like before. Running back to his patrol route, Red Wing found that if he incorporated the flips that the Talon had used into his own roof jumping, he gained more distance.

A week later, he ran into another Talon, a big one. Unlike Smile and Sarcastic (he really needed a better way to differentiate these people), this one tried to kill him. Almost succeeded too, right up until Batman answered his call and knocked the Talon half a roof away. The Talon vanished, leaving Red Wing with fourteen cuts to be stitched and a concussion.

Things were different after that. Smile kept his distance, Sarcastic fought him more convincingly. One time, he fell asleep on a stake out and woke up to someone chucking rocks at him from across the street. From the way the person flipped away, it had to be Smile. Sometimes, a thug would sneak up behind him and go down with a knife in his ankle or shoulder or hand.

His encounters with Sarcastic were weird. He would swear up and down that the Talon was trying to kill him, but he always came out the other side uninjured, and feeling like he learned something. A better way to dodge attacks, better holds and throws. How to land a punch or a kick most effectively.

It wasn't until Batman noticed a change in his fighting that he finally made his decision. He wasn't sure... how to say it. So he just up and blurted, "I think I made friends with the two youngest Talons."

Batman froze. Then, he pulled down his cowl – they were safely in the Cave by this point – and grabbed Tim's shoulder. It was probably supposed to be reassuring, but it felt more like a way to keep him from running. "Explain."

So he did. About how Smile and Sarcastic weren't as bad as the older Talons. About how they helped him, repeatedly, for no apparent reason. About how he had seen Smile throw a knife into a mugger's wrist, or a rapist's, or a murderer's. About how Sarcastic often jumped off buildings, landing on drug dealers, pimps, traffickers.

In the end, Bruce sat in his chair with his fingertips pressed together, just considering him. On his part, Tim felt like the kid sent to the principal's office. Finally, Bruce just sighed. "Tim, they're trained assassins. They kill people. For no reason other than they were told to."

"I know! I do. It's just..." He bit his lip. How to put this... "I get the feeling that they don't want to kill people. Like they don't have a choice. I know they're good people underneath. If they had the chance, maybe... maybe they could show it."

There was another moment of silence, then Bruce stood. Stalking over to one of the equipment drawers, he pulled out a small chip. "This is going onto your tunic. It'll replace a button. If anything happens with these Talons, you press this and I will come get you immediately. If I can't, it'll send the jet out to meet you." He handed the chip over. "And Tim?" He waited until Tim met his eye. "I mean _anything_. If you even get a whisper of a bad feeling when they're around, I want to know about it. Do you understand me?"

Tim nodded. But at the same time, he had a feeling he would never have to use the chip. Bruce gave a quick smile and ruffled his hair. "Now come on. Show me that throw. I don't think I've seen a variant like that."

* * *

The kill order was still out on Red Wing. But like the kill order that was out on Batman, Hood was fairly sure this one couldn't be completed. Not that the Talons didn't try. They did. Repeatedly. But every time, they would fail and every time they would trudge back to face their punishment.

Hood had been in punishment more times than he could count by this point. For "failing" to kill Red Wing, for talking back, for disobeying orders, for sneaking off. The list went on. But his success rate (outside of vigilante targets), was almost a hundred percent. Better than Cobb's had been when he was in his prime. And Hood was only getting better. It was probably the only thing keeping him out of the Bay.

It was a hollow kind of victory. He killed people without hesitation, but every time, he felt like something was wrong. The people he was killing, they weren't all bad. Some of them were, but some of them were just people. Going about their lives, their jobs, playing with their children, reading their favourite books or watching their favourite programs. And somewhere in there, they displeased the Court. They got on the wrong side of the underside. A simple conversation between friends could be a death warrant. And it wasn't right.

Sometimes, he got to go out and kill the real baddies. The drug dealers who operated outside of Court influence and became too successful. The murderers who had strayed a little too far into upper-middle class. The rapists who decided that the debutante was a more delectable morsel than the street girl. Those were the nights his blades sang.

If only they would send him after the rapists who went after the street girls too. The murderers who kill the people down the block. The drug dealers who hung around school yards.

But they didn't, they wouldn't, it was just wishful thinking.

Really, the only nights he enjoyed were the ones where he ran into Red Wing. It had taken a while, but the kid had finally graduated from "basically a sitting duck" to "might be a challenge to assassinate". Even facing Batman had its advantages. He could never beat the crime fighter, but that meant he could never kill him either. There had been that one time he had wiped the floor with him though, but it turned out to be some girl in a Bat costume. He'd left her alone. The Court told him that he should eliminate anyone siding with the Bat and had sent him to the punishment room.

Now, he was sitting, deep in the labyrinth, at his own personal bolt hole. Like the one the Acrobat had shown him... three years ago? Probably. If the newspaper he had found last week was correct and not one of the millions that floated around Gotham for years before catching an unlucky breeze and landing in the river. Anyways, this hole was similar, but just a bit more spacious. He had found it half a year into being Talon, already fully formed. The hole was tiny, but he wasn't big. Even if he did get much larger than this (not likely with how small he was and how little food he found each day), he could just chip out the sides of the hole. No big.

Small entrance, but after a short tunnel, it let out into a massive cavern. "Massive". It was about the size of one of his victims' bathrooms, but for him, it was huge. Considering all he had to compare it to was his cold storage coffin, that wasn't saying much. Still.

It had a little outcropping on it that he put his books on. They were random, but they were his. He stole them from people's houses. Not the victims. He wasn't that callous yet. But sometimes the Court would send him to deliver a package or a warning and he would grab the first book he saw on his way out.

One was a self help book. There were two adventure books, a Victorian romance, another few classics, a fantasy, a sci-fi, four high school type books, a murder mystery and three detective novels. He would sit there, his tiny belt-lamp glowing, for hours, just reading. Right up until he heard the Court assembling for a meeting, the faint rustles echoing, distorting down the endless halls. Then he would leave his hole and carefully put the painting back in place.

Like today. Today, he was off on another assignment. Or maybe today he would be set to guard duty.

"Talon Hood, you will be returning to cold storage. Report there at once."

And like a hammer put back on its shelf, Hood went. He disobeyed many orders, repeatedly, but not this one. He'd disobeyed once. The punishment had nearly destroyed him. Even now, he didn't have much feeling in his right foot. Just enough to move properly.

He reported. The lower Owl helped him step into his coffin. And then, just as his mind was slipping, he saw it. Through the window of his stupid box. Acrobat. Acrobat was being let out of his coffin. He was alright! He was...

The glass frosted over, and Hood knew no more.

* * *

 **AN: So that's three years passing, in case no one was paying attention. And yes, Tim is Red Wing, not Robin. The Robin name came from Dick, so without Dick, it makes sense that any sidekick/partner that Batman has wouldn't have the same name. And that's Red Wing as in the red winged black bird. No particular reason. I just think they're cool.**

 **Ok, last chapter's ending was a bit confusing, and I explain what happened with the man with the belt here, but it was kind of implied. So I'm explying it. The man was a hallucination, brought on by the Court flooding the room with Scarecrow's fear gas. So yeah. That's that.**

 **Side note: lots of people failing at stuff in this fic, my goodness.**

 **Enjoy the fluff while it lasts. Next chapter is horrible again.**

 **Read and enjoy!**


	4. 4 - Never that Easy

**Never that Easy**

* * *

Four years. He thought. He wasn't entirely sure. He had been in and out of cold storage so often. He was fairly sure he had been in a month at a time, because he spent a month awake before going back. And in all that time, he didn't see Hood once.

Sometimes, when times were busy, the Talons went on rotation; the two boys were on opposites. And the Bat acquiring a sidekick definitely made things busy. Red Wing, he really would insist on being called a partner, was a smart little thing. Fast, agile, incredibly skilled. Not strong though. But he had caught Talons quite a few times going about their business, stopped an assassination or four, and always managed to escape or fall back to the Bat's side before the Talon could slit his throat.

The Acrobat wished he could talk to him like he used to. Those two precious encounters before the Court learned of his existence. But he couldn't. If he did, the Court would order him to kill the little crime-fighter, and then put him into cold storage until some crisis required him to be pulled out. And that long in cold storage would weaken his cells. He'd have to rely on the Court for regular electrum injections, like Uriah, like Cobb.

He refused to rely on the Court. He still wanted to find Hood, to escape.

As the years went on, he noticed something. Little Red really liked over working himself. A few times, the Acrobat had snuck up on him while he was staking something out, only to find the little crime fighter conked out and snoozing. Instead of killing him like he should, he retreated to a rooftop away and chucked small rocks at him until he woke up. Other times, he had seen him chugging coffee after coffee, trying to keep what was probably a three-day awake-streak alive and well.

The little vigilante was too adorable sometimes.

He had just come back from yet another encounter with Red (one which involved him dropping little notes on the ground for him to pick up; they were mostly along the lines of "You should eat more" and "You're too little to be drinking that much coffee" and stuff) when he saw a new figure in the Parliament room. Or, he thought it was new. Or was it... grown...?

It was Hood. It was _Hood_ and he had grown up without the Acrobat watching. He was taller, still not as tall as Acrobat, well fed, and healthy. Physically healthy at least. There was a haunted look in his eyes that the Acrobat didn't like at all. It took all he had not to burst into tears and hug him, comfort him. That would probably keep him from seeing the little Talon ever again.

Instead, he stood next to his trainee and faced the Grandmaster. "Talons. We have a assignment of vast importance for you. The Joker has killed Uriah." The Talons both suppressed exclamations of shock. Killing Talons was incredibly difficult. Nearly impossible. "You are to rip off his head and bring it to me. Acrobat, you have performed to standards. Your name is Richard John Grayson. Hood, if you are successful on this assignment, we will see about returning your name as well. Dismissed."

His name. _His name_. That was it. No grand ceremony, no declaration. He would have missed it if he hadn't learned long ago the price for not paying attention to the Grandmaster. He had been handed his name like an unwanted pencil. And yet, it was his. He stood, unmoving, despite the dismissal. His name was Richard. Richard Grayson. Richard John Grayson. He didn't notice as Hood took the intel packet from another Owl, didn't feel as the child pushed him out of the room, into the maze. His name.

And he could get Hood's too! They could finish this assignment, and get Hood's name, and they could leave.

A small voice told him that they should _leave now_ , while they were together, but that wouldn't be fair. He couldn't deprive Hood of his chance at a name just to leave a few days earlier. He would wait.

Hood nudged him on the arm as they walked. "It's good to see you Acrobat. Richard."

"You too Hood. Although I suppose I can't call you that for much longer."

They shared a smile, Richard's joyful and bright, Hood's excited and just a bit jealous. Then the smile slid from the former's face. "How have you been?"

The boy nodded. "Most of my assignments have been successful. The only exceptions are the ones when I run against Batman and Red Wing." That hadn't been what the Acr- Richard had asked. But it answered the question anyways.

He had failed this child. He had said he wouldn't let him become Talon. He had said they would run away, that the boy would never take a life if he didn't want to. Well he wouldn't fail again. As soon as they completed their assignment, as soon as he got his name, he would take him on reconnaissance and never return. They would have to run forever, but they would be free.

Quickly, they found an access tunnel and headed up. This one was built to look like a chimney, long boarded up. In reality, it lead from the labyrinth to the roof of one of the taller buildings in Gotham.

Running with Hood had been everything Richard had imagined. He was pleased to see that the younger Talon had put his teachings to good use, improved upon them even. They ran, leaping and flipping between rooftops, the run becoming a chase, then a race. All too soon, they reached their destination, a warehouse painted garishly and decorated with balloons and clown masks. A simple enough find.

This warehouse was empty except for a skeleton crew of thugs to guard it. They spent a few minutes listening and got the location of another three hideouts to try.

As they ran, Richard spoke up. "Richard doesn't really fit. I think I used to use a nickname. Before, I mean."

"Yeah, it is a bit stiff to suit you. Serious. I wasn't going to say anything."

"Oh? Are you saying I can't be serious?" The first warehouse was empty. They continued on, going from rooftop to rooftop.

"You're about as serious as a paper cut. Even when you were training me, you made it a game." He vaulted an air conditioning unit. "So, what kind of nicknames were you thinking of?"

"Well, common ones for Richard are Rick, Dick and Rich."

"Hmmm..." Hood paused in his jumping to consider the other Talon, who stopped beside him. "Dick."

"Seriously, that one?" He did know what it meant, right?

"Yes. And I know what the other meaning is. It just fits, that's all. You don't seem like a Rick, and you're definitely not a Rich." He gave a short laugh. "We should probably get going Dick Grayson. The Joker won't kill himself."

They continued running. "You're such a brat Little Wing." Dick Grayson. Dick Grayson. Hood had a point, it did work. And it felt right too.

"Little what-now?"

"Little Wing. I get a slightly embarrassing nickname, you get one too. Little Wing." It sounded like perfectly good logic to Dick at any rate. Ah great, now he was used to it.

The younger snorted. "Hey, you asked for a nickname. I didn't. So keep it to yourself, alright?"

"You got it. Little Wing." Talon Dick. Dick Grayson. The Acrobat Dick. Older brother Dick. There were so many insults he could get from this. Oh well. He was a Talon. By definition, he had a thick skin.

The younger groaned. Changing the subject, he asked,"So, what do you know about Joker?"

"Not much. Every time I've been active, he's been in Arkham. We fought once, but the Bat interrupted."

"Yeah, he does that. I've fought Joker a bunch of times. He really doesn't like me, probably because I destroyed a few hideouts and killed a dozen or so of his thugs. The trick is not to underestimate him. He's skinny as a stick, but really strong and fast, like a Talon. Worse sometimes, because he doesn't fight with logic."

Dick nodded at the advice. It made a lot of sense.

They hit their mark at the second warehouse, the unmistakable laughter floating from the windows. They jumped down to the roof and carefully pulled a skylight open. They slipped inside, unaware that they were being watched.

* * *

"Batman? I found the Joker's hideout. There's a bit of a problem."

" _You are to wait for me Red Wing, understood?_ "

"Hm? Oh, yeah, of course. But some Talons just slipped in there. The youngest two by the looks of it."

There was silence at the other end of the line. Tim knew that Batman didn't like the Court using children as trained assassins. He had been running into the younger one for years, and the older one for longer. Then, of course, Tim just had to befriend them, make life even more complicated. As far as Tim was concerned, if Batman could have... something, going on with Catwoman and Talia al Ghul, Red Wing could have a sort-of friendship with Talons.

It made Batman suspicious of course, but not Red Wing. Once he had seen Sarcastic get blasted through a wall and get knocked unconscious. Instead of cuffing him and waiting for Batman, he had incapacitated the meta thug who'd thrown the Talon and left. He told himself he was just returning the favour for all the lessons Sarcastic had given him, but that wasn't it.

Finally, Batman spoke up. " _Do nothing. Do_ not _follow them in. I ran into a drug trade. I'll be there in twenty minutes._ "

"You got it Batman." The line went dead and he was left watching the warehouse.

After a while, he snuck a bit closer. Then a bit more. A few minutes later, he was sitting on the warehouse roof, looking down through the skylight the Talons had entered in. He was disobeying orders, but the Talons were in there. _His_ Talons. The ones who didn't try to kill him on a regular basis. So, he would stay outside, and just wait.

* * *

The intel packet that Hood had skimmed had said that the Joker had just escaped, taking Harley with him. That he hadn't had time to gather the many thugs that he had bought off or threatened into joining him. That the only ones he had on hand were the ones who joined him willingly and flocked to his banner every time he hit the streets. It had said that the Joker would be expecting Batman at this time of day, not the Talons.

The intel packet had been correct on all points but the last one. There was only twenty or so henches in the warehouse, but they were ready. The catwalk the Talons dropped onto was charged. They could handle electrocution; they healed from its effects the moment it stopped. The problem was in the fact that electrocution normally lasted a few minutes, minutes in which he and Dick lay on the catwalk, neither giving in to the temptation to scream. And Hood did what he always did when he was in extreme pain. He ignored it, focusing on what was going on around him instead.

Joker simply chuckled and clapped his hands. "Well well, look what the Owl dragged in. What did I tell ya boys and girls. Kill a Talon and others will flock to avenge him. It's so sweet." The goons started laughing, but the Joker's drowned out their comparatively wimpy guffaws.

Harley squealed brightly. "Oh Mistah J, you're so smart! How long do you think they can last up there?"

"Great question Harley my dear! Let's find out."

And so the Joker and his jesters watched as Hood and Dick spasmed and twitched. Apparently, the lack of screaming and begging for mercy was incredibly boring, because after a few minutes, the clown started huffing and fidgeting. Finally, he pulled a button from his sleeve and pressed it. The catwalk tilted, dropping the two Talons to the floor below. Before they could recover, the thugs swarmed them, slapping on heavy manacles and chains. They crossed Hood's forearms behind his back, so they were sitting parallel to each other and wrapped them in duct tape, then taped up his calves. A quick glance told him that Dick was getting the same treatment.

Poor Dick. He'd just gotten his name back. Was it possible for the Owls to take it away again if they were unsatisfied? Yes, it was. It had happened to Escape. Hood had seen it. And getting caught by the Joker was definitely unsatisfactory.

Not to mention, the Joker had killed Uriah. That meant he knew how to kill Talons. For the first time in what he assumed was four years, Hood feared for his life.

Joker strode up, and placed one foot on Hood's face so it was forced to turn to the side. "Well, lookie who it is! You're that Talon who broke my favourite playhouse! That was rude of you. Hmm. How to teach you your manners... Ah I know!" He got off of the younger Talon's face, then walked over to Dick, picking him up by the shirt collar. That in and of itself was a little impressive. There wasn't much loose material to grab there. "You brought a playmate this time! Haha, maybe I'll break him! The other Talon didn't last too long. Maybe we'll get some mileage before this one dies! Wouldn't that be fun?"

Hood didn't respond. He knew Joker. If he responded, the Joker would think he cared about the older Talon. If he didn't, Joker would lose interest and go after Hood instead. Dick had just gotten his name back. If he got out of this with no injuries, he might get to keep it.

It was hard, but he kept his face schooled into stillness. Joker frowned. "Hm. No, huh? Well, how's about you and I have a play date instead?" He dropped the older Talon and grabbed Hood. "Not here, obviously, but I have the perfect place picked out, don't worry. We'll play Pin the Tail on the Birdie, there will be a pinata, and fireworks! It'll be a party! And you know what else?"

Whatever else was going to be at the party got cut off. The skylight exploded, Batman and Red Wing bypassing the electrified catwalk and landing on a goon each. Joker just laughed, ordered his thugs to keep the Bat busy, then he and Harley grabbed the Talons and ran. Dumping their cargo into the back of a garish purple convertible, Joker cried, "Step on it Harley!" Hood's last view of the duo was of Red catching a baseball bat in his chest.

As they crashed through a boarded up window, the Joker turned to his prisoners, a spray can in one hand. "This stuff worked on the other Talon we picked up. No laughing unfortunately, but don't worry, that'll be added to the next batch. Nope, this is just nap-time spray. Lucky for us too, because it's a surprise party. Can't have you seeing the venue before we get there." Giving the can a few exuberant shakes, tongue sticking out one side of his mouth, the Joker gave them what was probably a very unhealthy dose.

Hood tried to hold his breath, but Joker punched him in the stomach and he gasped involuntarily. He did the same to Dick. His vision blacked out almost immediately, but his ears kept working for a little. The last thing he heard before the spray finished his work was Dick's voice.

"Little... Wing..."

* * *

Red Wing dusted off his hands, more of a habitual gesture than because his gloves were dirty. They did have a bit of blood on them, punching people in the face did that, but simply slapping his hands against each other wouldn't do anything for that. He looked around. Joker and Harley were missing, as they usually were, but he didn't see the Talons. Had they escaped in the commotion?

"Batman? Where did the Talons go?"

Batman looked up from where he was cuffing yet another thug's hands together, then went back to his work, uninterested. "Joker and Harley carted them off."

"What? Batman, we have to go help them!" This wasn't good. Joker probably didn't have a tea party planned for Red Wing's kind-of friends. Actually, he wouldn't be surprised if it was a tea party, although those were normally Hatter's thing.

"They heal fast."

What? "Batman, they still feel pain! Are you going to leave them to that?"

"They're trained assassins."

"We've been over this. You know how I feel on the matter." And Batman did. Red Wing knew how Batman felt too. It had been a cute relationship when they were younger, but the bodies kept piling up. He sighed. "I'm going Batman. If you stop me, I will never listen to anything you have to say again. If I go alone, I'll probably get caught too. Your choice." Something that Joker said flared in his memory. "But you should know, before I leave, that Joker knows how to kill Talons."

Batman, who had been in the middle of radioing the police for these thugs, cut off mid-sentence. "One moment Commissioner." Lowering his hand, he turned to Tim. "What was that?"

"He said that he had killed another Talon. That he could do it again." He was paraphrasing a bit, but that didn't change anything.

As he had thought, Batman's face grew determined. He wouldn't risk either their health and safety to spare an assassin pain, but he would risk them to save a life, no matter how many people those lives had killed.

Red Wing knew that the Talons had killed people. Dozens of people. But he had also seen Smile throw a knife at a man who was about to mug an old woman. He had seen Sarcastic drop down on a rapist and knock him out long enough for the police to arrive. They were decent people. He just knew it.

He just needed Batman to see it too.

* * *

 **AN: Oh dear, that Joker just cannot mind his own business. This doesn't look good for anyone.**

 **It's times like this when I wonder if I'm getting the characterization right... Hm.**

 **By the way, Escape is Calvin Rose. He was an escape artist who, surprise surprise, managed to escape the Court of Owls and become a hero in the comics. Not here, obviously. Nope, he got caught and taken back and had his name stripped from him.**

 **Anyways! Read and enjoy people! Because next chapter is worse.**


	5. 5 - A Certain Amount of Inevitability

**A Certain Amount of Inevitability**

* * *

Dick opened his eyes to a sharp burning in both shoulders, both wrists, and his left thigh. Sword hilts protruded from each spot, each with a tail tied to them. An actual, real, severed donkey tail, that swayed with each movement he made. Harley had another sword positioned over his other thigh. "Mistah J! He's awake!"

In one swift movement, she rammed the sword in and through his flesh, straight into the wall he was pinned to. The sword had been at least two and a half feet long, but she pushed until she reached the hilt. Just like the others. Then she picked up her hammer and walked away. He listened as she walked through a doorway and to what had to be the other side of the wall.

There was a resounding clang, and then another, each accompanied by horrible, vibrating pain. He bit down on his tongue to keep from crying out. If he had to guess, Harley was hammering the tip of the sword so it was bent down flat against the wall. That explained why his body hadn't just removed the swords yet.

As Harley came back around, another sword in hand, Joker showed up with a flourish, a bloody crowbar in one hand. "Greetings birdie! I hope you're enjoying the party! Harley is a little enthusiastic with the Pin the Tail on the Donkey, but it shouldn't spoil your fun! I'm sorry to say, I've already started on the pinata." He pulled a remote from his coat and pressed it dramatically.

A rail, one of the ones attached to the ceiling that was used to move product throughout the warehouse, whirred to life. After a few grating moments, the hook showed up, Hood dangling from it. The hook was stabbed under one of his shoulder blades, out of reach. Not that he could have grabbed it. Both of his arms were broken, as were a few ribs based on his breathing and the slight concavity of his left side. His other injuries were hidden by his suit, but a trail of blood followed him to a stop in front of the Joker.

Joker hit another button and the hook released from the rail, sending Hood crumpling to the floor. Harley was positioning another sword over his belly button, but Dick had eyes only for his brother. He wasn't healing. Why wasn't he healing?

"Funny story," Joker crashed the crowbar down on Hood's forehead, "I met a man last time I was out. After we talked for a bit, well, he talked, and I shot him in the foot, he told me he was part of this group. I'd heard of them, of course, and you Talons lend a certain credibility to his story, so I let him prove it to me. While I played with his wifey and little snickerdoodles, he grabbed this stuff. A little bit of anti-Talon juice. So I could play with you for as long as I wanted and you wouldn't undo all my hard work. All I had to do was this!" His hand flashed out and a dart embedded itself in Dick's neck. "This dose only lasts fifteen minutes, but that's alright! I can always reapply."

He hadn't felt this in years, not since his training days, but the feeling was unmistakable. His blood froze, tiny little knives stabbing into the walls of his arteries, his veins. He could feel every capillary and it all _hurt_. Still, he kept silent, even when Harley bent down the newest sword.

The clown just tsked. "You are both so quiet. That's no fun. Maybe I can make the big bird sing." He started towards Dick, crowbar raised menacingly, only to stop with a shocked look on his face.

Hood had reached out and grabbed him by his rumpled purple slacks. "Not him you want... I broke your playhouse, 'member?" His voice was quiet, strangled, gasping. If he didn't heal the damage to his lungs soon...

Dick tried to protest, but Harley already had another sword through his lung. He couldn't get enough air to breathe, let alone talk. Joker simply broke into a dazzling smile. "You're right! How could I have forgotten? Don't worry big bird, I'll get to you as soon as I'm done with pumpkin here." The crowbar slammed down on the arm still holding his pant leg, then the shoulder attached to it. The sickening crunch of bone sounded through the warehouse, but Hood lay silent.

After another few hits, Joker sent Harley to the roof to prepare something. Dick was left pinned to the wall with eight swords in him, watching as the Joker beat his little brother to death. He had a moment of hope when Hood's injuries started closing up, but the Joker just tossed another dart down, swinging the crowbar in the same movement. Time dragged on. Each blow that landed on Hood jolted Dick as if he had been the one hit. But he hadn't. There was no way he could keep his Little Wing from this torment.

Joker reared back for another massive blow, to the forehead from the angle, when Harley called down, "Puddin! One of our henchies called in, and we have a problem. Bats is on his way!"

The clown pouted. "Sorry bird boy, looks like we won't get to play after all. Don't worry. I'm leaving you fireworks to make up for it!"

One last button press on his remote and the roof opened up. A platform was lowered down, a platform piled high with boxes of explosives and a timer on top. "Two minutes should be enough for me and Harls to get to a prime viewing spot. You two will have front row seats of course. Lucky you!" He set the timer, caught Harley when she jumped down and together, they skipped out the door, slamming and locking it behind them.

This wasn't good. If Dick's internal clock was correct, he still had three minutes until the drug wore off. At least six or seven for Hood. They weren't going to get out of this, were they? He closed his eyes.

After a minutes, there was a shuffling sound. His eyes flashed open to see Hood, trying to crawl to his feet. The tape around his ankles and forearms had split during the beating, allowing him to position his cuffed arms in front of him. But one shuddering step had him crashing back to the ground.

When the younger Talon started crawling, Dick started shouting at him. Well, trying to shout. It came out as a hoarse whisper, one he wasn't sure reached his brother's ears. "Little Wing, run, get out of here!" But Hood kept crawling, towards Dick and away from the door. Once he reached him, he used the wall to pull himself up.

A few things happened at once. The door blasted open, revealing the Bat and Red Wing. The Bat immediately noticed the bomb and pulled Red into his arms, turning his back to give him the most protection he could, something that Dick was really thankful for. No reason for Red to get pulled into their mess. Hood stood up, shakily, placing himself between the bomb and Dick. And the bomb went off.

* * *

Batman saw the Talons, one pinned to the wall, one injured beyond belief. But that wasn't what drew his attention. There was a bomb in the middle of the room, counting down 0:05, 0:04, 0:03. There was no way to reach the other two in the time he had left, so he pulled Tim towards him and turned, trying to place the wall of the warehouse between them and the explosion, to lessen the blow. The blast itself was surprisingly small, considering the large number of boxes sitting on the platform. Knowing Joker, more than a few had been filled with packing peanuts.

Surprisingly small, but still large enough to knock out the wall behind him.

Shielding Tim, he pushed against the ground with his hands and knees, lifting the wall up enough for the boy to slide out and lift it off his back. He followed his partner out and took stock.

Red Wing wasn't badly injured. A small scratch on his arm, which would heal in a week at the outside. He himself had several large bruises on his back, a cracked rib, and a number of lacerations which would require stitches. Alfred would insist he stay in bed for at least a week, but he could probably whittle it down to three days.

Now for a look around. The warehouse had been completely leveled, but the Talons were no where to be seen. He gestured for Red Wing to stay close, then picked his way over to where he had seen them last, taking the least treacherous path. He was most of the way there when a large block of rubble shifted and was pushed aside, revealing the two assassins.

The older one still had swords embedded in him, even if the wall he had been pinned to was destroyed. But he ignored these in favour of pulling the younger into his arms. After a moment of nearly soundless shouting, the blades started pushing themselves from the wounds. He winced every time a bent portion entered or exited an injury, but otherwise continued his silent cries. Once the blade in his chest was removed, he took a breath, coughed out a few blood clumps, then went back to the younger.

"Little Wing," his voice was soft, almost crooning, "Little Wing, wake up. You can't leave me."

Batman carefully approached. When the Talon didn't move to attack, he dropped to his knees beside the still, bloody body and felt for a pulse. Nothing. He looked up at the other Talon and shook his head.

The Talon simply drew a serrated blade from his belt – Batman went from kneeling to a crouched ready position – and slammed it into the younger's chest, opening him up like he was performing an autopsy. Peeling back the rib cage, he reached in and started squeezing the heart, trying to manually pump his blood. All the while, he continued talking to the Talon, telling him to wake up.

It would have been touching, if it hadn't been morbid and disturbing.

After a minute or two of hopeless squeezing, the previously dead Talon took a shuddering breath. The older gave out a bright smile and extracted his hands, putting the rib cage back into position, presumably so it could heal.

It was agonizingly slow, but eventually the younger Talon cracked an eyelid. He searched around, skipping over Batman and Red Wing's respective curious and concerned features until he landed on the older Talon. "'ey Dickie. You alright?"

"I'm fine Little Wing. You shouldn't have jumped in front of me like that. You got hurt."

"Had to. You just got your... name back. They take those away, you know? When you do bad. Couldn't let them... take your name." His eyes flicked back to Batman. "You can keep it, right? Keep his name... tell him if he forgets..." At Batman's solemn nod, he gave a weak smile. "He's Richard Grayson. But call him Dick. It fits better." And with that, he fell back unconscious.

Batman just sat there, stunned. He didn't notice as the Talon, as Richard Grayson, the child he had lost so many years ago, continued talking at the boy in his arms. But he did notice when Red Wing shifted closer. "Richard Grayson? Isn't that...?"

"Yes." Time to wonder about this later. For now...

"What should we do with them?" Leave it to Red Wing. The child had the uncanny ability to read his mind. Mildly disconcerting. When Batman didn't answer, he continued, "We can't leave them here. He's a Talon, but he's still really injured, and healing slower than usual. And we can't let the Court get them back." He was throwing out the most sensible arguments, trying to appeal to Batman's logical side. It was working, regrettably.

Richard, Dick, looked scared at the idea, even started babbling. "No, we can't. I was going to take him, run, I never wanted this for him but I never got the chance until now, and we were going to finish this assignment so Hood could get his name back, and then we were going to leave, but Hood didn't know because I didn't tell him and we failed and if we go back now we'll be put into cold storage and we probably won't see each other for another four years and..."

Batman tuned him out, considering. There were a number of places he could stash them, but he was fairly sure they weren't secure enough to keep out the entire force of the Court. Then there was the matter of the younger Talon. Hood was his name? None of the places had any type of medical equipment, and none of the hospitals could handle this type of ability.

The Cave could handle this. It had various scanning technology to ensure that everything was healing properly. It was the most secure place on Earth. Only the Watchtower was safer, and that was in space. But did he really want two unknowns coming to his base of operations?

Red Wing trusted them. And his intuition was normally correct.

He just had to check one thing. Breaking into Dick's seemingly endless tirade, he gestured. "Follow me." He stalked off, mildly pleased when he heard Dick follow, Hood most likely in his arms and Red Wing close behind. The walk to the car was quick and thankfully uneventful. It would be just his luck for the Joker to show up with a grenade and a grin.

Opening the trunk, he pulled out his portable scanner. On the right setting, it checked for bugs, tracers, recording devices, nanobots, and any other kind of electronic paraphernalia. There was no way he was leading the Court to his doorstep.

He set the scan on thorough, then waited until it completed. No implanted bugs. It made sense, with the way Dick's body had pushed out the swords by itself. His Talon physiology would likely treat implants the same way. "You have tracers in your clothing. We have a few sets of civilian clothing in this bag," he pulled it out, "so if you change into these, I can take you somewhere safe. You'll have to follow my rules when we get there."

Dick nodded, too attached to the idea of not going back to the Court to even ask what the rules were. He grabbed the bag and ran somewhere private to change and to redress Hood.

Sidling up to him, Red Wing had a look on his face. A "I-know-what-you're-up-to-but-I'm-going-to-ask-anyways" look. "So, what do you have planned for them?"

"There's a few cells that should hold them. Once they're healed up, we can ask them about the Court, make plans to dismantle it. Find out how at fault these two are, how likely they are to rehabilitate. Keep them under observation, then basic checking in if they behave."

"So, witness protection? House arrest? Treat them like criminals? I'm not sure that's what's best for them. Not to mention, they're my friends. Sort of."

And Batman still didn't approve of this "sort of" friendship. "They are criminals. They have been murdering people for years. At least this way, they have relative freedom."

"Relative freedom is what they had at the Court. We have to be better than that."

Batman was saved from having to reply by Dick's return. He had discarded his mask, and Hood's, giving Batman a good view of his eyes for the first time. And that unmistakable hue was definitely Dick Grayson's. Batman's failure to save this boy lead to the Court stealing him away, turning him into a monster.

Maybe he did need more than monitoring.

He could work out the details later. For now, he bundled the Talons and Red Wing into his car and sped off, stopping only to drop the Talon uniforms into Gotham Bay.

* * *

Alfred was prepared. Master Batman had called ahead to inform him of the unusual guests that would be arriving in the Cave, and had reacted accordingly. First, he donned the rather itchy domino mask that was insisted upon whenever guests visited. Then he bustled through the medbay, preparing a bed and setting up the MRI. He turned over two of the cells, making them as close to proper guest rooms as he could without destroying the bland, slightly intimidating atmosphere that Master Batman insisted upon.

The cells were made with two layers of glass. One was a nearly-indestructible variant of polycarbonate, designed to keep prisoners in and intruders out. The other was a slide-down, one-way mirror. The cell's occupant would see only their own reflection while Master Bruce could watch them without having to keep his cowl on. Which he likely would regardless. They were furnished with a cot, a small cubicle with a toilet, a sink, and a few choice books that Alfred was fairly sure would interest the guests.

He was ready and waiting when the car pulled into the parking platform. Master Batman jumped out first, followed by Master Red Wing. The guests, Richard Grayson and Hood, exited more carefully, one holding the other's unconscious form. Alfred pulled a gurney to a stop in front of Richard invitingly. "If I may sir? We can get started on helping him."

Richard looked at the gurney warily for a moment, then nodded. He carefully arranged Hood on the bed, then followed close behind when Alfred rushed him to the medbay.

The boy's wounds were grievous, even with most of them half healed. His entire back, head legs and arms included, had been blasted with shrapnel and severely burned. His chest and abdomen had been cut through and opened, a result of Richard's impromptu CPR, no doubt. From the X Ray, most of the bones in his body had been broken or fractured, and quite a number of those would have to be rebroken and set. The MRI revealed no serious brain trauma or internal hemorrhaging, and most of the damaged muscles seemed to be healing in proper order. There were a few that were not lined up properly, which would cause problems down the road. They would have to be cut back open and stitched up.

Truly, it seemed the only reason the Talon had healed so slowly was the sheer magnitude of injuries to deal with, and it was only because of this that they had a chance to fix him. Rolling up his sleeves, Alfred got to work, shouting orders at Master Batman and Richard as they were needed. Master Red Wing was sent to bed. No need for him to see this. Particularly with the odd attachment he appeared to have for these people.

Of particular worry was the boy's forehead. It showed signs of repeated trauma, and while the scans said he had no brain damage, that didn't mean it hadn't been there. It was possible that any trauma had already been healed. And since the frontal lobe held the personality, well. It was entirely possible that Hood would wake up a different person than he had been yesterday.

These worries would come to light when the boy awoke. No need to invite the devil, as the old saying went. Still, as Alfred washed his hands, gazing over at the Talon sitting next to Hood, he truly wished that no further harm would come to these boys.

He dropped his tools in a bin to be sterilized. Richard could be placed in his cell later. For right now, the boy showed no signs of leaving the other's side. He swept from the room, intent on giving them their privacy.

* * *

Dick sat next to the child. The boy he had claimed as his own. He had never told Hood how he saw him, as a brother. He would, the moment Hood opened his eyes.

Nope, he couldn't wait. He needed to say it now. Everything. He'd just repeat himself when Hood woke up, but for now, this was good practice. "Hey Hood. You probably can't hear me, but I need to say this anyways. You asked me once why I cared and I said I had my reasons. And I do. I can't really remember, but before I was Talon, I had a family. I think anyways. It was just me and mom and maybe dad too. And all I wanted, more than anything, was a brother or sister. I knew I could be a good big brother. And when I saw you that day, the day Alexander brought you in, I thought maybe I could be your big brother.

"I couldn't stop them from making you Talon. There was always two or three Talons around you for the entire time. If I had tried to break you out, they would have most likely caught and killed us both. But I could keep you from killing. I had a plan.

"It wasn't supposed to go the way it did. I was going to train you and go with you on your first outing. The handler always goes with the new Talon on the first outing. I was going to take you away before you got conditioned. Before you made your first kill. You were going to be a Talon, but only physically.

"I don't know how, but the Grandmaster must have known. Known how I felt about you, what I planned. Your first outing was with Alexander.

"When I saw you today, for the first time in four years, I think it was four years, I got so excited. Maybe this time, I could get you out of this life. We could run and never stop running. As soon as you got your name back. It was supposed to be a simple. Kill the Joker. Get your name back. Then run. But I failed you. I always fail you. I was supposed to protect you, but you protected me and now you're sitting here and you're hurt. I'm so, _so_ sorry Little Wing. I've been a terrible big brother."

He was sobbing now. He couldn't see, could barely breathe, and stuff kept coming out of his nose. Much too preoccupied to notice the hand lifting up and grabbing the back of his head. So when said hand pulled him down to land on something firm and covered in soft fabric – Hood's chest – the shock of it stopped his tears for moment.

"Shut up you idiot." The voice was weak, scratchy, but the tone was unmistakable. "You've been a fine big brother. Now quit blubbering. I'm trying to sleep."

Dick, not daring to raise his head, simply nodded into the blanket. They sat there while Hood's breathing evened out, long past when his hand loosened and dropped to the side. Eventually, Dick followed his brother into unconsciousness.

* * *

 **AN: Quick update, but I couldn't help it! I needed to get this chapter out! Ah. Yup. I feel better. Especially with that ending. A nice ending to a horrid chapter. Phew. Glad they got out of that one. Wasn't sure they would make it for a moment there. Don't worry though, next chapter will probably be nicer.**

 **I mentioned Hood's forehead injury a lot. That will not be relevant for a long time. But it's kind of relevant, so it's in there. Just deal with it.**

 **Read and enjoy people!**


	6. 6 - Questions and Answers

**Questions and Answers**

* * *

When Tim woke up the next morning – not that he had gotten much sleep, but Alfred wouldn't be happy if he didn't at least pretend to get a healthy four hours a day – the first thing he did was press a mask to his face and dash down to the Cave. The Talons were still down there, and he really wanted to talk to them.

Unfortunately, when he skidded into the medbay, they were both asleep. He walked closer, intent on poking Dick in the shoulder to wake him. His hand was still a good foot away when the Talon shot out, grabbing his wrist and pushing a pen into his jugular. After a tense moment, Dick blinked the sleep out of his eyes, saw who he was holding, and dropped him, muttering an apology.

"Hey, no big deal. I should have known better than to sneak up on a Talon." Rubbing his neck and fairly sure that he had a blue line on it now, he pulled a chair to Hood's other side. "Speaking of, why?"

"Why what?"

"Every other Talon tried to kill me whenever I ran into them. But you didn't. You talked to me. You saved Batman when I was worried about him. Why?" It was a question that had been bothering him for months. Years.

Dick gave a tired smile. "I don't remember much about my life before the Court." It was a non-sequitur, but it made Tim sit up. He had a feeling there was a point to this. "That's what they do. Take away your memories so you're more effective as a tool. I have a vague impression of a face, arms wrapped around me, the smell of hay and popcorn, the feeling of gliding through the air. And the first time I saw Hood, I got a small bit of conversation too.

"I think it was my mom. She was telling me I would make a great older brother. And at that moment, that's all I wanted. To be Hood's brother. But after I finished training him, they put me in cold storage. I don't even know how long. Four years, on and off. In all that time, I didn't see Hood. I missed him. I'd only known him for a week and I loved him like a brother.

"Then I met you. You reminded me of him, so much. When we first met and you asked me why I cared. Hood asked me that too. Then as time went on. The way you regarded me with suspicion the first time we talked. The way you tripped over your own feet and missed hits. The way you smiled at and wisecracked every villain you came across. But you were softer, quieter, more bent towards thinking rather than acting. About a year ago, I realized that I thought of you as my brother too. Probably had been ever since I laid eyes on you, just like Hood. That's why I never tried to kill you. You mean too much to me."

Tim didn't know what to say. There wasn't much to say, really. Dick didn't seem to need a reply, he simply aired his thoughts without expecting the same in return, which Tim was grateful for. He didn't know what he thought of the acrobat-turned-Talon. A mystery, a potential ally, perhaps a friend. A brother? He'd never had siblings before. He didn't know what they felt like. But Dick had never had siblings either, but he had still managed to adopt two.

There was another question bugging him. "Why did you stop talking to me?" It had hurt. They'd talked, they'd shared a basket of fries, then three years of silence. Nothing.

"You got in the Court's way one too many times. They set a kill order out on you." Dick said it as if it was the most normal thing. A cult of people told their undying assassins to kill a ten year old. "Not a full blown one, just a if-you-happen-to-run-into-him kind of one. Secondary, is the technical term. If I had talked to you, they would have found out. Then my primary mission would have been to kill you. Once I succeeded, I would have been either reconditioned or tossed in Gotham Bay to very, _very_ slowly drown." He sighed. "It was hard though. I _really_ wanted to talk to you."

Wow, that was... wow. He didn't know what to say to that. At all.

So he changed the subject. Gave himself time to think over his feelings. Of course, living with Batman, he wasn't very good at that... "I wonder what Hood's reason was then."

"Hm?"

"Hood. He never tried to kill me either. We fought, plenty of times, and really convincingly, but I got the sense he was handing out pointers rather than going for a kill strike."

Dick leaned forward again and ran his fingers through the hair at the crown of Hood's head, the one spot not covered in bandages. "Who knows? Maybe Little Wing thought you were his brother too. He'll tell us when he wakes up."

When, not if. Tim had seen Hood yesterday. It had been hard to tell beneath all the blood, but that head injury had been really bad. Even as a Talon, he might not be able to heal from it.

They sat in silence for a few minutes when something Dick had said clicked in Tim's mind. "Wait, you said you can't remember anything from before the Court took you in?"

"Not much, no. It's probably in there. The memories. Just waiting for the right time to come out." His face was wistful. Interesting, that. When he had the Talon mask on, his face had been stone. A few quick smiles here and there, but beyond that... Without the mask, he looked like any other teenager.

Shaking away the thoughts, he could deal with those later, he pulled a smile onto his face. The more he thought about this, the more sincere it got, until his cheeks started hurting. "What if we found the right trigger? Batman has files on you. On who you were before. If we can access them..."

Dick blinked, then looked up slowly. "Maybe I can remember."

* * *

It was unbelievable. Red Wing had pulled him to the computer, chatting excitedly about this and that, and was currently typing in the fourth of his seven passwords. After all these years, maybe... maybe he could get a face to go with his mother's voice. And the arms, the ones that made him think of safety every time he remembered them. Were they his father's? Mother's? Did he have uncles or aunts or cousins or grandparents? Were any of them still alive? Why hay and popcorn? And there was a small snatch of music, one that flitted through his mind when he wasn't paying attention then vanished the moment he noticed.

Red Wing had the cursor over the file, but he hesitated. Biting his lip, the little crime fighter turned in the chair to face Dick. "I should probably warn you... this might not be pleasant."

"It's my memories. Good or bad, I want to know." He was a Talon. The Court had taken him when he was ten. Whatever was in there, the beginning was probably – hopefully – wonderful, but the ending had to be terrible.

With a nod, Red Wing double clicked.

Richard John Grayson, an acrobat in Haly's Circus, part of the Flying Graysons. His mother and father were the other two members of the act. They traveled the world, performing in hundreds of cities and in front of thousands of people. But when they reached Gotham City, someone cut the trapeze lines and John and Mary Grayson fell to their deaths. According to the file, someone named Tony Zucco was the suspected and convicted murderer. Dick himself had vanished mere hours after his parents' deaths, and was presumed dead.

As he read, memories flooded in, filling in gaps and adding colour to previously dim recollections. The arms wrapped around him were his father's, right after his first successful quadruple flip. His mother had made pizza that night to celebrate. Laying in a pile of hay behind the tiger pen, eating a bag of popcorn that Antoine the clown had slipped him. The large exaggerated wink had been hilarious with the clown makeup, and he had still been chuckling as he chewed his snack. The music was carnival music, but with a bit of Haly's flair. The old ring master had written it himself. Dick had been there the first time it had been played, listening in wonder.

And the trapeze. Nothing compared. Well, diving off of rooftops came close. It was definitely freer. But there was something about flipping and spinning, knowing that no matter what, his father would catch him, his mother would throw him straight to the middle of the platform. It was everything that Talon had missed in the past... eight years. If the date on the news article was right.

He had gone missing when he was nine.

He was seventeen years old.

Tears started coursing down his face. He finally remembered his family. After all these years... And nothing had changed. He still couldn't see them, hug them, laugh with them, eat with them, argue, make up, argue again, play with them, work with them, grow with them, cry with them, smile, hang out, read books, watch shows, perform, get caught doing mischief, continue doing mischief, offend, apologize, defend, get injured protecting them, injure protecting them, _nothing_. Everything was different and nothing had changed.

But he remembered. He had missed out on so much, but he had experienced so much. For those ten short years, he had had a family. And he remembered them. It was wonderful and terrible and absolute joy and miserable depression all at once.

And he was glad. Glad to have his memories back. Glad to remember. Even through the sadness. The pain of losing them made every new/old recollection glow like a precious jewel.

Wiping away the tears, he smiled down at Red Wing, who was watching him with a concerned look on his face. "Thank you. So, so much."

The little crime fighter looked a bit shocked, then returned the grin. "It was my pleasure."

* * *

It wasn't really an itch. Not an ache either. Just an awareness. The best he could describe it was as a tightness, on his skin, through his muscles, in his bones. The knowledge that something had healed. Or in this case, everything.

It was worst on his forehead, but his chest and back had quite a bit of tightness in them too. And his arms. And his legs. He was fairly sure it was in one of his eyeballs too, but it was more difficult to tell when it was the eyes.

Some things were still sore. Deep in his back mostly. There was probably a few microscopic shards of shrapnel in there. He could feel his body sluggishly pushing them out. That was uncomfortable. But other than that, he was mostly fine. So really, he had no excuse to be laying here with his eyes closed. No reason other than laziness and trepidation. When he did open his eyes, where would he be? The Court? Or somewhere better? Anywhere was better, really.

Ok, now he was just stalling. Peeling open an eyelid, he snapped it closed almost immediately. Not because of the light shining directly in his face, although that was a bit _too_ bright. No, it was mostly in reaction to the sudden weight that landed on his chest and the arms that pushed their way under his pillow to circle his neck. Whatever kind of attack this was, it wasn't very effective. Whoever it was wasn't even cutting off his air.

Wait.

Cracking an eyelid again, he started. It was Dick. But why was Dick trying to strangle him? No, hold on. He had seen something like this before. People on the streets. This was a... There was a word for it. A hug.

He wasn't sure how to deal with this, so he just poked Dick's side.

"Little Wing! You're awake!" Dick's voice was much too cheerful. Hood wasn't really a morning person. Not that morning in the Court had meant much. Not that he was entirely sure it was morning now. But still. The sentiment was there. "I'm so glad you're awake and it would be great if you stayed awake this time and didn't pass out, it's been a long four days and I want to talk to you and-"

He took a moment to breathe, so Hood jumped in. If he didn't, it would probably be another few hours before he got a word in edgewise. "Four days? I was out for four days?"

He felt Dick's head nod from where it was nestled into his chest. "Yup. I was really worried because I've never seen a Talon take that long to heal before. Then again, I've never seen a Talon take that kind of beating before and live." His voice was steady, but a slight tremble in his arms gave him away.

Oh God, now he was shaking. Seriously, what had those people done when other people hugged them? Returned it, maybe. If he was remembering right. Reaching up as much as he could with a heavy Talon on his arms, he patted the older Talon on the back. Older brother? He didn't have any experience with siblings. But if it was Dick... he might be able to learn. "I'm here. I'm alive. Now get off." The last sentence was accompanied by a shove with his free hand.

Dick obliged and sat back, even though the push couldn't have been strong enough to budge him. Now free, Hood tried to sit up and failed miserably, falling back to his pillow. Silently, Dick pulled him into a sitting position, then elevated the medical bed so he could sit without taxing his back muscles. Hood didn't acknowledge it with much more than a look, but Dick still smiled a "you're welcome" at him. "So, what'd I miss?"

"Well, we're in the Batcave, with Batman, Red Wing, and a guy named Agent A who makes the best food ever. Red Wing looked me up on the Batcomputer and I got most of my memories back and Batman and Red Wing left in the Batmobile a few hours ago to patrol and-"

"Stop. Back up. You got your memories back?"

"Yup." And Dick relayed what he had learned and what he had remembered. Hood listened with wonder, so incredibly happy for his... brother. That was going to take some time to get used to. And the more Dick talked, the less jealous Hood got. If anyone deserved this, it was Dick.

"That's awesome Dick. I'm glad you remember." And he meant it.

Dick just ducked his head. Seriously, if he kept smiling like that, his face would get stuck. Not that he would complain. "Thanks Hood. And don't worry. We'll get your memories back too."

Not likely. He had been off the streets. Street kids didn't have convenient records that he could access on a Batcomputer. Speaking of. "Also, what's with all the Bat- named stuff? Does he actually call it that?"

"Hm? No, I started calling it that."

"Why?" No, really, why?

"Because it's not just a cave, it's better than all the caves. And it's because Batman is here. So it's the Batcave. Same thing with the car and the computer and those little throwing star things."

Ah, those. Hood had had a few embedded in his neck before. Very painful to pull out. "What did you call those?" He almost dreaded the answer.

"Batarangs." Ok, that one wasn't bad.

He sighed. "Alright. What else did I miss?"

A serious look crossed Dick's face. "The Court has been silent. As far as they know, we died in that warehouse, but there's been no retaliation. Joker was spotted tonight spray painting smiles on all the paintings in the museum. That's why Bats is out tonight instead of..." He trailed off.

"Instead of watching us. Got it." Hood really didn't blame the guy. Leaving two enhanced assassins in his secret base alone had to be a bad idea. Offering a wry grin, he continued. "A museum would have been perfect for an assassination. Lots of corners to hide behind."

"Not like a mostly-empty warehouse."

"Ha. True. But why are they waiting?"

Dick sat back, a thoughtful frown on his face. "Maybe they're planning? Two Talons couldn't take the Joker, maybe they're sending the rest?"

It was the best possible option for them. "I hope so Dickie."

Dick noticed his sudden melancholy. Of course he did. He scooted himself forward and wrapped his arms around Hood's shoulders. "We'll be fine Little Wing. You'll see." Hood wanted to believe him. But as long as the Court existed, they would be forced to run for the rest of their lives.

* * *

"Did you get it?"

"Yes Grandmaster. There was a camera on the building opposite. And... you won't like what we found."

"..."

"Right! Well. One of the Talons was in poor condition. It was carried out by the other one. And they were taken away by the Batman and his sidekick."

"They were captured?"

"No sir. They went... willingly."

"Prepare Protocol Fourteen."

"...Yes sir."

* * *

 **AN: Well that sounds ominous. Wonder what that's about. You know what, I bet Protocol Fourteen is code for "Next chapter is the last nice one for quite a while". Yeah. That sounds about right.**

 **Someone was confused so here it goes: Dick is 17. Hood is 14. Tim is 13. And Dick is still taller. In the comics, Jason didn't really get any sort of height until after he came back from the dead. Not what happens here, obviously, but it'll be a bit similar.**

 **Oh. And for the other Guest who reviewed. Happiness? Pft. Not for my characters. Not for a looong time.**

 **Mwaha.**

 **Read and enjoy! Loxie OUT!**


	7. 7 - Getting to Know You

**Getting to Know You**

* * *

"Wonderful. You're awake." Dick beamed at the dry British voice. Every time he heard it, it was followed by cookies and a general feeling of calmness. In the Court, it had been calm any time he wasn't on an assignment, but it was a tense calm. Like the calm before a storm. Agent A was the calm after the storm, when you knew everything was going to be ok now.

As usual, there was a tray full of cookies in the butler's hands. Unusually, there was a glass and a paper cup full of pills as well. "Here we are." Hood made a tentative grab for the delicious-smelling treats. He'd been grabby about food when they were training; looks like that hadn't changed. But Agent A gently slapped his hand away. "None of that now. You must have these first." He held up the paper cup and a glass of water.

Hood was instantly suspicious, recoiling as far back into his pillow as he could. "What is it?"

"Nutrient pills. We attempted to get you on an IV drip, but you continually pushed the needles out. And your blood work was severely lacking in several essential vitamins and minerals."

There was something about Agent A that made a person instantly want to obey. Batman had obviously built an immunity, and Red seemed to be well on his way, but luckily, Little Wing was new to the butler's no nonsense demeanor. Demurely, he took the cup and dry swallowed the pills. Dick couldn't really tell, because of the mask, but he was fairly sure Agent A rolled his eyes at the action.

He pushed the glass closer. "And the water young sir. Then you may have your cookies." Dick had to say, he'd never seen something disappear that fast. Hood had gotten the entire glass drank in one gulp.

Satisfied, Agent A maneuvered the tray so it was sitting on Hood's lap and the Talons dived in. They were still eating, savouring every bite, ten minutes later when the Batmobile pulled into the Batcave. Those were the terms now. As soon as he figured out how, he was hacking into the Batcomputer and changing them there.

Red Wing bounded into the medbay as soon as he was showered and changed, as he had been for the past few days. When he saw Hood, his face covered in crumbs, chocolate chips, and raspberry jam, he broke into a smile. "Hood! You're up!"

"Yup. Not dead yet squirt." He bit down on the last bite of cookie, ignoring the napkin Agent A was not-so-subtly holding out in his direction, choosing to wipe his face off on the back of his hand instead. "So, how've you been since the last time I tried to kill you?"

"Nice try. You never tried to kill me. You were training me."

"Ah! Little detective, this one!" Hood grinned, and Dick mirrored the expression. His little brother didn't seem to have any bad side effects from Joker's attacks. No brain damage. That was good.

Red Wing's smile dropped into a serious frown. Dick followed that one too, knowing what Red was going to ask and showing silent support. Even though they were Talons, Red idolized them a bit. Probably because of the no-fatal-attacks thing, but probably something else too. "Why? You had plenty of chances. But you never went for a death blow. Not even a maiming one. Why?"

Hood blew out a breath of air. "Right to the heavy question, huh? Alright. First time I ever saw you, you were talking some druggie woman down from a ledge, saved her and her kid. I checked on her a month later. She'd gotten checked into rehab. Her kid was doing well in school." He scratched at the back of his head. "Dick tell you how we can get memories back sometimes? Just random, out of the blue ones caused by some trigger or another?"

Red Wing nodded. "He got a memory the first time he saw you."

Hood's eyebrows flew up. Dick frowned. Had he never told... Nope. He had not. Oops. Giving him a Look, Hood continued. "Well, watching you talk to that lady that night gave me one too. Some blonde woman, maybe my mom. Maybe not. I was reading to her. There were needles everywhere and her eyes were all glazed. But sometimes, she smiled." His eyes were faraway. Dick was listening intently, and he knew Red was doing the same. Anything Hood could remember was a hint as to who he had been. "You were so kind to that lady on the roof. And I thought, maybe, if my mom had had someone to check her into rehab, if she'd gotten clean, I wouldn't have gone to the streets. I wouldn't have been Talon."

He snapped back to reality and flicked Red on the forehead. "You kind of sucked though. Any Talon could take you out with both hands behind their back and blindfolded. You had a job to save people and you couldn't do it if you were dead. That's why."

Rubbing his forehead, Red nodded. "Thank you. I'd been wondering."

"Well stop it. It'll give you little creases that will never go away." Intent on being annoying, Hood rubbed his thumb between Red Wing's eyebrows, trying to erase the crease there while Red protested. After a moment, Dick joined in, pulling Red's mouth into a smile. "Frowning is bad for you Red. Lighten up!"

"Let go you guys! Stohahhaap!" The last word was severely distorted by giggles when Hood gave up on the seemingly-permanent crease and started tickling the poor little crime fighter. After a particularly fierce chortle threatened to take one of Dick's fingers off, he moved to tickling too. Fingers were a pain to regrow.

"What's going on in here?"

The sudden, stern, Batman-voice had all of them freezing in place. Slowly, they turned to the door, Red still hiccoughing a few snickers. Dick pressed his mouth into a straight line. "He is much too serious for his age. He has way more growing up to do before he becomes a broody tower of darkness like you."

Hood nodded. "Small children need to smile Bats."

Ignoring Red's protest ("I an _not_ a small child! And you're not much older than me!") _,_ Batman just glared at Dick, who glared right back. Probably not a good idea to glare at the guy who had decided yesterday that he wouldn't put them in the little cells the Batcave had for some reason, but it needed to be done. "Now if you'll excuse us, we were in the middle of something important."

Hood got in first, grabbing a very ticklish spot on Red's knee, producing a startled yelp from the boy. Dick went back to focusing on his sides, Hood on the bottoms of his feet. Dick wasn't sure, but he thought he saw Batman smile, shake his head, and turn to leave.

Red didn't escape until twenty minutes later when Agent A walked back in with a new batch of cookies. That man really had the best timing. "Alright Master Dick, Master Hood. I do believe that Master Red has had enough for now."

* * *

Tim jumped. Master Dick and Master Hood...? But Alfred only ever called people he considered family by that title. People who belonged in the Manor. He caught the butler's eye and received a knowing smile in return. So Alfred saw it too?

It had been a bit slow, but Dick had managed to very much incorporate himself into life in the Cave. Any time he wasn't watching over Hood's bedside, he was helping, teaching Tim new moves, showing Bruce how he could use acrobatics to climb buildings faster than even a grapple, helping Alfred dust the computer. Or sometimes making a nuisance of himself, hopping from stalactite to stalactite and scaring the bats, taking naps on top of the computer screen, hanging from the car's platform to startle Tim when he jumped out at the end of a long night. Hood himself had been awake for less than an hour, and he'd already impressed Alfred with his hearty appetite and willingness to pull the ever-serious vigilantes out of their brooding.

A day or two later, once Alfred let Hood get out of bed officially (and after he'd snuck out at least six times), Hood had managed to work his way past the Bat's very impressive walls. A good majority of it was hiding in the stalactites and jumping out to startle him (which never worked) and spotting things in cases that Bruce and Tim missed. For example, one of Riddler's riddles had involved a classical novel, one Bruce had read, but not often and not for a long while. Hood had the entire relevant passage memorized.

By way of explanation, Hood just waved a hand. "I was sent to pick up a delivery from an Owl's house. I may have made off with a book or six as well." At Dick's raised eyebrow – because really, how did he manage to get away with that? – he grinned. "They were the dusty ones, in the very back of the library. He probably didn't even notice they were gone. That's where I got most of my books. Deliveries. Read them a hundred times, at least. Never took any from any assassination assignments though..."

Soon after, Tim found himself browsing the bookshelves in the study, trying to find something Hood might like. All four books were finished in two days and piled neatly on Tim's workbench. After a half hour, he looked up to see a pair of teal eyes peeking at him longingly from the far end of the table. With a sigh, he stood and walked up the staircase, pulling off his mask as he went.

Bruce, in his usual paranoid fashion, had installed a fingerprint and retina scan, as well as a vocal key, to the door. To keep the Talons out, he said. Tim just smirked and shook his head. Neither of them had shown any interest in going upstairs, although Dick did start waiting at the bottom of the stairs every time he heard someone open the clock.

The study was empty. So was the rest of the house actually. Bruce had gone to a Wayne Enterprises meeting and Alfred had driven him. So it was just Tim and the secret basement of Talons. And apparently, as he grabbed another book off the shelf, someone else. He heard their breathing beyond the door, but there wasn't any time to hide or react. The door burst open and Tim let out a strangled cry as the assailant tackled him, then another as his head slammed into the desk. Dazed, he could barely follow the intruder's conversation as he spoke into a walkie-talkie.

"Yeah, alone, just like you said. ... Nah, I didn't have any trouble breaking in. ... That code the Court gave you really does work on everything. Easiest kidnapping I've ever been paid for."

The conversation was cut short when the clock burst open. Thankfully, the kidnapper had his back turned as Hood shouldered his way past the magnetic locks and Dick flipped into the room, landing on the guy's head. He went face first into the same desk that Tim had landed on, going unconscious instantly.

Dick gathered Tim in his arms while Hood hogtied the intruder. Then they raced back down the stairs, pulling the clock closed on Tim's insistence. Before Tim could get his bearings, he was sitting in the medbay, with Hood stitching the cut he didn't even realize was bleeding while Dick tried unsuccessfully to call Bruce on the computer.

"Ok, I got nothing. Hood, you still haven't fixed your shoulder?"

"It's fine. Just dislocated. It'll heal."

"It'll heal faster if you fix it. Red, how do you work this thing?"

Later, Tim would blame the head injury for this. At the time, it seemed like a spectacular idea. "The passwords are 0527DC1939, 0437DC1940, 0416B1943, 03357B1983, 08436B1989, 08647DC1992, and 09655B2006. Batman can be called on the third icon down." He faded in and out of consciousness, only hearing brief snatches of conversation as Dick relayed what happened.

It was almost like his brain was taking snapshots instead of video. Click. Dick was by the computer, Hood was leaning close to inspect the stitches. Click. He'd fallen over. Hood was picking him up. Dick was rushing over. Click. They had pushed a bed so it was against the wall. Click. They had sat him up and put themselves on either side of him, to keep him from falling over again. Click. They had both fallen asleep. That sounded like a good idea.

* * *

Meetings were long and almost always uneventful. This one was one that Lucius could have taken care of by himself, but the board members insisted on his presence. Of course finances were crucial, but this was beyond him, let alone his facade of idiot billionaire playboy. And it was boring. Fighting crime was simultaneously more interesting and more fulfilling.

No, that wasn't quite right. Wayne Enterprises employed thousands of people. Money was donated to charities which he used to fund the criminals who were more desperate and down on their luck than the hardened thugs he normally encountered.

Bruce truly believed that his charities helped those people. The ones who turned to gangs or petty crime so they could feed their little ones. It was largely in part to the Wayne Foundation. Not to mention his own night time activities, which were not as promiscuous as the board wanted to believe. Of course, he normally had a good sense of which person he encountered was a criminal and which one was just desperate.

His phone rang, jostling him from his not-related-to-finance thoughts. Hiding his relief with a look of annoyance, he gestured to the board to continue. Stepping out, he pressed his phone to his ear. "Hello?"

" _Ah! I got it to work. Hood, it's working!_ "

" _I can hear that Dickie. Just tell him what happened. Whoa Red, stay upright. I need to bandage this._ "

And now Bruce was freaking out a bit. Bandage what? And how had Dick gotten into the computer? "Talk. Now."

" _Right, right. So Red was upstairs getting Hood more books and we heard him scream. Once, and it was probably just him tripping on something. But he screamed twice and we got all worried. So we broke your door and there was a guy and Red was lying on the floor bleeding a bit from his head. I knocked him out and Hood tied him up and now Red is getting stitches and I thought you should know._ "

Bruce sighed and rubbed his eyes. "He's alright?" From the sound of things, he was, but Bruce wanted to make sure. He started towards the elevator. He'd give his apology to Lucius tomorrow.

" _A little woozy. He probably has a concussion._ "

The elevator door closed behind him. Pressing one of his shirt buttons, he temporarily shorted out the camera. And now for the second important question. "Did the intruder see the Cave entrance?"

" _Hm? No, he had his back turned when Hood bashed through. Speaking of, Hood, fix your shoulder or I'll fix it for you!_ "

" _Fine!_ " There was the distinct crack of an arm going back into its shoulder socket.

And the third question. "And you saw the room upstairs? Any notable objects?"

" _Oh yeah. There was a desk, and a bunch of decoration stuff!_ "

" _And wall to wall books. Tell him about the books Dick!_ "

" _Hood says there was books_."

" _That was the least excited mention of books I have ever heard._ "

" _That's because it's not exciting._ "

Before Hood could reply, Bruce barked, "Focus!" The elevator dinged, and he swept his eyes across the room. Spotting Alfred speaking to the receptionist (a lovely young woman, sir, she wants to go to Yale next year), he waved him over. One last question. "Do you know why the man was there?"

" _Yup. Heard him just before we broke in. The Court sent him he was going to kidnap Red._ "

"WHAT?"

" _No idea why. Maybe we'll find out later? Ah, who am I kidding? You're Bats! You'll figure it out_."

He would have preferred a concrete reason, but this would have to do for now. "Keep an eye on him," he meant Tim, but he couldn't tell Dick his name, and calling him Red while there was twenty or thirty people in ear shot would be suspicious, "I'll be home in half an hour." He hung up, and turned to Alfred. "Someone went after Tim today, but whoever it was clearly wasn't expecting our guests to be there. Tim likely has a concussion though."

Alfred sniffed, holding the door open for Bruce. "Some people have no sense of decorum. Entering a person's house while they're away is the height of poor taste."

Giving a short laugh, he smiled at his lifelong friend through the mirror. "Indeed it is Alfred. Now let's see how he's doing."

The ride home was definitely a half hour according to the clock on the dashboard, but it felt like so much longer. As it wore on, Bruce felt something unfamiliar creep up on him. He was trying to shift through every possible culprit who could have gotten past the Manor's security, but his focus kept slipping sideways to Tim. If he was alright, if he was scared or worse, if this was so in the norm for him that he was simply used to it. Maybe making him Red Wing had been a bad idea. If he hadn't, he wouldn't be getting injured on a regular basis. Actually, if he hadn't taken Tim in in the first place, he wouldn't be getting targeted by unknowns. And that wasn't his only failure. He should have kept a better eye on Dick, that day at the circus. Should have gone up and comforted him right away instead of looking for clues as to the murderer's identity. If he had, the Court might not have grabbed him. And Hood had dislocated his shoulder?

"Oh, do stop worrying sir. I'm sure Master Tim is fine." The curt voice cut through his thoughts.

"I'm not worrying. Am I worrying?" Was he worrying?

Alfred gave him a wry smile. "It appears so Master Bruce. Fret not. It's natural to worry about your children when they're injured." Children? It made sense for Tim, he supposed. He had adopted the boy after all. But he'd been worrying about Dick and Hood too.

Bruce was saved from having to reply by Alfred pulling up to the front door.

Leaping out, he pushed open the door, already standing ajar, and raced down the hall, to the study. As promised, there was a thug lying on the ground, thoroughly tied up and unconscious. As a precaution, Bruce lifted the man and tossed him into the hall. Alfred could call the police on this one.

He opened the clock, noting the broken magnetic locks, and took the stairs two at a time. He raced through the training room, the main area, and the garage (complete with boat, plane and motorcycles), before he remembered the medbay. Hood had been stitching Tim's head.

And there they were. Sitting on a bed parked longways along the wall, each of them fast asleep. It surprised him a bit when the tight feeling in his chest lessened, not just at the sight of Tim's general health (head wound not withstanding), but also at Dick's and Hood's. Grabbing a blanket from another bed, he covered them and turned to leave, flicking off the lights as he went. He had to speak to Alfred about some guest rooms.

It wasn't until a few hours later that he noticed someone had altered all his equipment records. The "Batmobile"? What?

* * *

 **AN: Well, at least Dick made good on one promise. Hooray for messing with equipment records! I'm getting tired of writing "Hood" I want to call him Jason already! Rahhh!**

 **Looks like last chapter was wrong. One more happy chapter after this. After that, pretty much the rest of the fic is horrible. And a little terrible too. Brace yourself.**

 **Oh! Almost forgot. Those passwords aren't just random letters and numbers. Can you guess what they mean?**

 **Read and enjoy!**


	8. 8 - Trust

**Trust**

* * *

When Tim woke up, still sandwiched between Dick and Hood, Alfred was already there. Without waking the Talons, he performed a quick medical exam, checking his cognition and reflexes, his stitches. "Well Master Red, it appears Master Hood did a fine job. The stitching was done well. Won't even scar. However, you are not to go on patrol for at least a week. Concussions take time."

He nodded, knowing that he would probably be able to sneak past Alfred's all seeing eyes in around four days, but only if he didn't show any indication of wanting to leave between now and then.

And now he was stuck. The Talons were still sleeping on him, and if he moved, he would wake them.

He wanted to let them sleep. But he really needed to use the washroom.

Carefully scooting himself forward, he winces when Dick shifted, then woke up. "Hm? Red? Good morning!" He rubbed his eyes, then flung his arms around Tim's shoulders, smacking Hood in the face as he did so. Which, surprisingly, didn't wake him.

Tim tried to pull away, but Dick didn't let go. "Dick? Could you let go please? I need to go upstairs."

"No. I'm hugging you. Last time you went up there, you got a concussion."

Oh. "It's safe up there now Dick. Batman and Agent A are home."

Dick gave a long "hmmmmmm", but eventually released Tim. Before he could jump off the bed though, Bruce walked in, wearing sweats and his cowl. It looked really weird. "Wake up Hood. We need to talk."

Tim nodded and shook the still-asleep Talon, planting a bug on him at the same time. He wouldn't be allowed to listen. He knew this. But he was going to anyways. The first moment he got, he planted one on Dick too.

Once Hood was awake and he and Dick were heading to the interrogation room, Tim stuck his comm. in his ear and headed upstairs. He really did need to use the washroom.

* * *

"I want to start by saying thank you for saving Red Wing last night. The kidnapper is in police custody, and they're working on getting a confession out of him." Bruce leveled his gaze at Dick. Hood was out in the hall, waiting his turn. "But you've been here for a week now, and we haven't talked about... your previous activities."

This was it. Whatever Dick, and Hood, in a bit, said here, that would tell Bruce how much he could trust them.

"We haven't. What did you want to know?"

"Start at the beginning."

Dick shifted uncomfortably, but he obeyed. He started with his own initiation. Three weeks of punishment-heavy training. His first outing, which he failed spectacularly. His mental conditioning. The four or so years where he did assignments, slaughtered people, occasionally dropping off packages and warnings.

He skimmed over meeting Hood. Just basic details. Bruce thought that was odd, but it wasn't important for what he was asking for right now. Dick obviously thought the same.

The next four years, where he rebuilt his shattered soul into something that Hood could maybe be proud of. "I wanted him to be proud to know me, and, just maybe, proud to call me his brother." He staked out his targets longer, not going in for the quick kill. He took them when they were alone, so he didn't have to kill off any bystanders. He moved the corpses, so they weren't found by the victim's children or spouse. He skimmed over meeting Red Wing too, which was fine. Bruce already knew most of that.

It was a gruesome account. Long and horrid and Dick spared no detail. Bruce collected names, which he would check against official records later. He thanked him again and sent him out.

He didn't call in Hood right away. Everything Dick had told him... It enraged him. That the Court could do this, and to a child not yet eighteen, was inhuman. Of course, from what Dick said, they weren't seen as people. Not as living things. Just as tools, to be used, stored, and thrown away when they became too inconvenient. And by people Bruce considered his peers at that!

He had known the Court existed. Had for years. But to learn that it consisted of Gotham's wealthy elite... he didn't know what to think. Of course, Dick didn't have any names to give him. The Owls all wore masks, didn't use names in meetings. But they were still people Bruce rubbed elbows with at every gala he held or was forced to attend.

He took a deep breath. Once he had his emotions under control, he opened the door and let Hood in, asking him the same thing he had asked Dick.

Hood started with training with Dick, but not much after his outing. From how he described the mental conditioning, the Court had used a high concentration of Scarecrow's fear gas to speed it up. From there, he described his first year of assignments, how he met Red Wing, his entire span of time at the Court. He had been "punished" a lot, much more than Dick had been. Actually, Dick had never mentioned getting punished outside of training, but from what Hood was saying, it was a regular occurrence for him. Mostly mouthing off, refusing to kill women, children, bystanders.

Like Dick, he spared no detail. And like Dick, after Hood left, Bruce had to try and reign in his emotions. Tried and failed. With a roar, his fist slammed down on the table, sending notes, a recorder, and fourteen pens flying.

He swore, right then and there, to bring down the Court. No, not bring down. Dismantle. Destroy. By the time he was done, there wouldn't be a trace, a hint, a whisper of their existence. They would never lay their hands on the Talo- no. They weren't Talons anymore. He didn't know what they were, but "not Talon" seemed like a good place to start. And the Court would never get to them ever again.

He swore.

* * *

When Hood woke up, he wasn't where he had been. He had been leaning against Dick, sleeping, tired after a long day of reliving his time in the Court, followed by beating up every practice dummy Batman had to forget it. He currently was horizontal, on the most comfortable surface he'd even been on, with a quilt above him and absolutely no one nearby.

He leapt out of the bed and on top of the wardrobe. It had a good view of the door, the opulent room, and the rather large windows. It was a good place.

After a half hour (according to his inner clock), the door opened and Agent A walked in. With barely a glance at the bed, he strode over to the curtains and flung them open. "Master Hood, if you could get off of the wardrobe. It is sturdy, but even Victorian furniture cannot hold up to that kind of abuse for long." He wasn't even looking at Hood, how did he know he was up there?

Carefully, Hood dropped off the wardrobe, more mindful about damaging it than he had been going up. "Where am I?"

"You are in one of the Wayne Manor guest rooms. Master Bruce carried you up himself." He started bustling about, pulling the sheets and quilt back into pristine smoothness.

"Who?"

"Ah. My apologies. Master Batman carried you up."

Wayne Manor. Master Bruce. It took him a second, but only because it was so unbelievable. " _Bruce Wayne_ is _Batman_?" Seriously?

Agent A straightened up, and in a completely dry and remorseless tone, said, "Oh dear. You figured it out. Such a tragedy. Whatever shall we do?" He ventured back to the door and held it open. "Breakfast, Master Hood?"

No matter what, Hood wasn't one to say no to food, shocking revelations or not. Bats – _Bruce_ – and Dick were there, as was Red, who introduced himself as Tim Drake. And apparently, Agent A was Alfred Pennyworth. Huh.

During that breakfast, Hood learned a bunch about the two crime fighters. He learned that Tim was thirteen and doing pretty well juggling school and late-night crime fighting. He had figured out who Batman was more than six years ago, through a combination of stalking, intuition and luck. After his parents had died (not the Court, a private contractor by the sounds of it), he had been adopted by Bruce and eventually, become Red Wing.

He also learned that he should _not_ ask Bruce why he had become Batman and that Tim would explain it later. But Bruce had been Batman for almost a decade. He had heard of the Court years ago, but was finding it incredibly difficult to pin them down. But, the information they had given him yesterday would be a lot of help in dismantling them.

Batman being Bruce Wayne also explained the kidnapper yesterday. The Court probably had no idea of the vigilante's identity; it was more likely they had been trying to get the billionaire to join them. It happened like that sometimes. They would kidnap a potential recruit's loved one(s), then threaten their safety until the recruit was in too deep to go to the police. Or until they thought that what the Court was doing was right. One of the two.

Breakfast was delicious, as all of Alfred's cooking had been, with the added bonus of being more than the butler could carry downstairs at one time. The table was full of things like bacon and eggs and pancakes and cut fruit and more things than Hood could name. He didn't know what this fluffy, flaky bread thing was, but it was shaped like a moon and he liked it.

After all the food was consumed, there was a stretch of awkward silence, while Bruce waited for the Talons to ask the question they wanted to; while Tim flicked his eyes between the three of them, clearly wanting to tell them before they asked; while the Talons tried to phrase it right. Finally, Hood just blurted out, "Why are we up here?" And shrank back a bit, waiting for Bruce to realize that, no, they shouldn't be up here, get back to the Batcave, or better yet, go into the cells. Clearly, trusting a Talon is a mistake.

Bruce's eyes softened with something indiscernible at Hood's reaction. "You've already been upstairs. And better yet, it was to save Tim. From what he can remember, you didn't even take a good look around before you took him back downstairs, and the security cams I have in the study concur. Clearly, you didn't care to find out my identity. Therefore, you can be trusted with it." He sat back, taking a sip of freshly refilled coffee. "Not to mention, Tim and Alfred have taken a liking to you."

Tim leaned in, and in a whisper that clearly carried over to Bruce, confided, "He likes you too. He'll just never say it."

Dick looked satisfied with the answer, and for the most part, Hood was too. But in the week that followed, he was still waiting for the other shoe to drop. For Bruce to decide that this was a bad idea. For him to lock them up. It was one thing for them to be confined to the Cave. All the entrances and exits were jammed full of security measures and other painful-but-not-fatal things. He could pick up Mr. Freeze's gun, from his first heist, and freeze them solid.

But time wore on and none of that happened. They went to and from the Batcave when they wanted, or when Bruce had company over. It happened a few times: someone from Wayne Enterprises would come calling about something that "absolutely could _not_ wait", and Dick and Hood would head down to the Cave. Right up until they got bored and perched themselves in a shadowy corner of whichever room the meeting was in. Bruce always noticed them immediately, and spent the entire time trying not to smile at them. The board members were always oblivious.

Sometimes, Bruce would call them into the Batcave to ask them more about the Court, its day-to-day operations, the Talons, the Owls, their time there, and the average treatment. It was during these last two that he started taking breaks, every dozen sentences. Hood couldn't figure out why, and ended up going to Alfred for an explanation.

"What was done to you, young sir, was simply atrocious. Master Bruce is leaving because he needs to master his emotions. He worries that an outburst would upset you." The butler was his usual stoic self as he ran a cloth over the trophy cases, but there was a hint of anger in his tone when he talked about what was done to the Talons.

Sure, the Court hadn't treated them well, and turning ten-year-olds into assassins was horrifying, but all the other stuff? The punishments and training accidents? They didn't matter. Hood was a Talon. Dick was a Talon. They healed. Sure, Hood would jump in front of a bullet to spare his... brother the pain of an injury, but even if he didn't, Dick would heal. Hood would heal. What happened with Joker was different.

He was still confused a few days later when – during tea time, which Alfred insisted upon – he heard something. A high pitched sound that was strangely... hypnotic...? "Do you hear that?"

Dick stumbled into him, rubbing his ear. "I do. It's a little... floaty."

"It is." It was.

Bruce grabbed his chin and snapped his fingers in front of his face. Frowning, Hood made a noise of protest and batted his hands away. "What is it? What do you hear?" Already, he was pulling out a tablet computer. It was probably connected to the Batcomputer, ready to analyze the sound.

Dick stood up. "It's really, really high pitched and it sounds like a song." He started walking, towards the door, with Hood following.

He stopped when Tim put a hand on his chest. "Wait, where are you going?" He looked worried. Why? It was such a pretty sound.

"Over there Timmy! The sound is coming from Gotham and it's so nice. I want to find it." Dick started picking at the fingers splayed over his chest. Sleepily, Hood gracelessly landed his elbow on Dick's shoulder and did the same. They had to go find the sound, but they both needed to go.

Suddenly, a horrible screech exploded behind them. Hood cried out and covered his ears, but the noise slipped past his hands and straight into his brain, like a dagger. He fell to the ground, barely registering the movement beside him as Dick did the same. The world went black.

* * *

"What did you do to them?!" Bruce had pressed a button on his tablet, and then the Talons had blacked out. Tim knew that whatever Bruce had done was intentional, he just didn't know if the Bat had intended for the Talons to go unconscious when he did it. Most likely not, but you never knew with him.

Bruce carefully put the tablet on the carpet, then started checking Dick's vitals. "The computer noticed an incredibly high frequency sound blanketing Gotham, inaudible to anyone except some infants and, apparently, these two. Anyone with perfect hearing. I had it calculate a counter frequency." He moved on to Hood. "We should probably get them to the Cave. We have soundproof ear plugs there."

Tim nodded and carefully, they pulled the Talons downstairs. There was a bit of difficulty on the stairs which had them leaving Hood upstairs while both of them carried Dick down to the medbay, then going back up. The ear plugs were specifically designed to block out certain frequencies of noise, while letting in others. They were mostly for use against Pied Piper or Man-Bat, allowing Batman or the Flash to fight them, to hear what the villains and bystanders were saying, without being affected. They were in final testing stages.

Plugs in, Bruce went to the Batcomputer and blocked out the frequencies for the unknown sound, and the one that the computer was still spouting. Almost immediately, the Talons woke up.

Dick was the first to sit up. Hood just rolled over and pulled his pillow over his head. "What happened? I remember a song..."

"We're still triangulating the source of that. And don't take the plugs out of your ears. Those are the only things keeping you from going to find it again." Bruce stared at the Batcomputer through the medbay window as he said this, as if constant observation would cause the search to go faster.

"The Court... They still haven't gone after the Joker, have they?" At Tim's mostly confused nod, Dick continued, "That song... I think it was a Call." Dick looked thoughtful and just a bit... scared?

Pulling the pillow off, Hood sat up. "A what? I've never heard of that."

"A Call. It was before your time, but a Talon once defected. Skipped a kill, tried to give the police information on the Court. Before he could give up anything incriminating, the Court sent out the Call and he went back." Tim didn't have to ask what had happened to that Talon. He'd listened in on Bruce's interrogations of life at the Court, even though he wasn't supposed to. Most likely, he'd been thrown into the Bay.

Hood's face took on a frightened cast as well. "But that means..."

"That they know we're alive. Probably that the Bat has us. And they want us back." Oh. Dick and Hood had every reason to be scared.

After quite a few minutes of mostly brooding silence, Batman said, "If you want, we can go after them. I have almost everything I need to take them out, thanks to you two." He left for a minute, coming back with a rather large piece of paper. "I drew this map based on what you told me of the labyrinth. The areas we should focus on would probably be the punishment room, the cold storage chamber and the Parliament room."

"The Call room too. I don't know where that is exactly, but I know the area. Shouldn't be too hard to the records room. That has everything we'll need to get the police involved." Dick pointed out.

Hood snorted. "The records room, which we've never been to and don't know for sure exists."

"It exists, and I'm fairly sure it's behind the Parliament chamber. See here," the acrobat pointed to the map, "there's a blank space. A big blank space."

"Couldn't it be something else? Sewer access? Or a really deep basement to a skyscraper?" Tim didn't think so, but it was a good idea to ask.

"Not sewer access." Hood stated. "The Court is deeper than the sewer. As for a deep basement, possibly. But one owned by the Court. They wouldn't allow anyone to get that close to them. Dick is right. This one is our best option." He paused. "Why do we need to go to the punishment and cold storage rooms?"

"To destroy them." Batman said it as if it were obvious, as if he didn't know why Hood was asking.

This just confused the Talons further. "Why?" asked Dick. "When we finish the Court, those rooms will be useless. No one will know they're there."

Tim sighed. Neither of them understood. "It's fine Dick. It'll just make us feel better, that's all. What happened to you in those rooms... It wasn't right. If we do this, we'll feel like at least some of the injustice towards you two has been righted."

Dick nodded, but Hood still looked confused. That was fine. He'd understand later. For now, "What's the plan Bats?" Bats? He'd never called Batman Bats. The Talons were clearly rubbing off on him.

Bruce raised an eyebrow at the name, but continued focusing on the map. "According to Dick and Hood, the Court holds weekly meetings in the Parliament room. If we can sneak in there, we can place a few canisters of stun gas around the perimeter. Once they're all knocked out, we can cuff them, unmask them, start finding evidence. Unfortunately, a good portion of the members will be able to use their influence to get out of a prison sentence, but hopefully, the police will have enough time to cripple their base of operations before then. The Court may resurface, but they won't have anywhere near as much power as they do now." From the look on his face, Batman had no intention of letting the Court resurface.

Red Wing and the Talons nodded. Then, Dick took over the briefing, seeing as he knew the most about the Court's goings-on. "The Court will have as few as two Talons awake, more probably four. It's unlikely they have more than that out of cold storage. All that's left are the older Talons, and they don't last too long once they're past their prime. Of the ones awake, one will be guarding the entrance to the labyrinth. The other entrances are trapped. They all set off alarms if they're even touched. All except one." He pointed to a spot, on the opposite side of the original entrance. "I found this one ages ago. It's a bit tricky to get to, but it should fit us. You might get a bit stuck tough Bats." Bruce looked down at his muscles with a hint of surprise. Tim just smiled. There were advantages to being small.

Dick smiled as well, then went back to the brief. "Another will be wandering the labyrinth. We'll have to be very careful not to run into him. If we do, we'll have to fight, and that will make noise. Noise that will carry through the halls, straight to the Court. There might be two wandering the halls, sometimes the Court needs two Talons for assignments, and another one guarding the Parliament room. It's not likely, but we should prepare for it."

Batman nodded and took over again. "So, we go in, place charges in the punishment room, and in the cold storage room. Head to the Parliament room, subdue the Court, find the records room. Once the police have collected everything they need from the labyrinth and figured out what to do with the Talons, we'll detonate the charges."

A sudden idea popped into Tim's head. "Batman, can we place charges on the ceiling too? In strategic places of course. Flood it with sewer water once we're done." Batman didn't comment, simply gave a quick smile and a nod.

Grinning at the suggestion, Hood stood up. "Well? What are we waiting for? We've got bad guys that need chasing."

* * *

 **AN: People should probably stop swearing to stuff. I always find a way to make a character break a promise. It's a really bad habit.**

 **I think the Call needs some explaining. Basically, humans have these little hairs deep inside our ears, and those are what allow us to hear. As we get older, the hairs break, starting with the ones that hear high pitched noises, ending with the ones that hear low pitched noises. But since they're Talons, they healed all those little hairs and have perfect hearing.**

 **And yes, that last sentence was a reference to Under the Red Hood. Wow, that can't be a good sign. Especially since I've told you twice that the rest of this fic is horrible terrible.**

 **And the passwords from last chapter, in case you couldn't figure it out, are the dates and issue numbers that Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Jason, Tim, Steph and Damian first appeared in the comics, in that order. For example, 0527DC1939, 05 is May, 27 is issue 27, DC is Detective Comics, and 1939 is the year. B is for Batman, obviously. Yay! Easter Eggs! Congrats to the people who did figure it out!**

 **I did toy with the idea that Jason had been the one to kill Tim's parents. But while Tim might have been able to forgive Jason some day, I don't think Jason ever would have been able to forgive himself. There's already too much guilt in this story. Which is actually a spoiler for the next chapter! Yay! Guilt!**

 **Wow, long AN is long.**

 **Read and enjoy people! Loxie OUT!**


	9. 9 - Return to Darkness

**Return to Darkness**

* * *

It was an old, abandoned stretch of sewer. It normally was, cliches and all, but this one was so old it used clay bricks instead of concrete and it had been closed off so long it was dry. Hood ducked under the fourth or fifth collapsed support column, stooping to catch the comm. unit when it fell out of his ear. Again. He didn't really know how to put it in. It was shaped differently than the one he had used as Talon.

The next time it happened though, Red Wing noticed and grabbed it. Pulling Hood's head down so he could see, he plopped the little radio into his ear in a way that was both more comfortable and more secure-feeling. He smiled a thanks, savouring the wide, crescent grin he got in return. He knew Dick though of this kid as a brother. Could he do the same?

No. That probably wouldn't work. Dick was a wonderful brother. All solid and supportive and quick to smile. Hood wasn't very emotional, didn't understand them well. The best he could do for this kid would be to jump in front of a bullet for him. But he was fairly sure brothers needed to be more than that, especially when they were older. At least... he thought he was older. He'd been taken when he was ten or so, it had been maybe four years, and Tim was thirteen. Hm. Most likely.

He was jolted out of his thoughts when Dick, who was walking in front of him, stopped abruptly. "We're here." It was barely a whisper, but it was a shout compared to the previous silence. There, in the top of the wall, was a small gap. Dick had been right. Hood would have no difficulty fitting in there. Neither would Dick or Red. Bats would be a little cramped, but he should be fine. "Alright. One at a time. On the other side of this is a fairly steep slide thing. It gets narrower near the bottom, so keep your arms above your head and your legs pointed. And no talking once we're down."

Dick pulled himself up and over the wall. But of course, Dick being Dick, he couldn't risk a comment. "Hey, Hood. Maybe we can find your name in the records room! Or beat it out of an Owl. One of the two."

Hood nodded. "Sure Dickie." And the acrobat let go of the edge.

Before he could pull himself up after, Red tapped him on the elbow. "I keep forgetting to ask, and I want to now before I forget again. Why does Dick call you Hood?"

The light, excited feeling he had had from the thought of finally beating the Court diminished a bit. "The Court took my name away. I don't remember what it is. They took Dick's too, but he got it back right before we were sent to kill the Joker. He used to be called Acrobat." He pulled himself up, ready to drop, when one more bit of info popped into his head. "They told me once that they got the name because that's what they found me in. A ratty old red hoodie." And he dropped. He didn't notice the way Batman jumped as if electrocuted, didn't see the sudden look of realization and guilt that crossed his face.

He reached the bottom, landing noiselessly. Dick was already there, peeking around the corner, looking for another Talon. A scraping sound, slowly increasing in volume, was Hood's only warning. Red popped out of the tunnel, right into Hood's arms. Good thing too. The kid had clearly not been expecting the drop.

A moment later, Batman landed. Almost immediately, he opened his mouth to speak, but Dick held a finger to his mouth. With an inaudible, frustrated snarl, the Bat kept his silence.

Slowly, they made their way through the maze. Dick mostly led the way, but every once in a while, he and Hood would get into wordless arguments about which turn to take, Hood insisting he knew a shortcut, Dick insisting he was an idiot.

Any time he wasn't arguing with Dick, he had his concentration split between listening for traps and thinking. Mostly about how he was in the Court again, but how everything was different. The most obvious change was the costume. The old Talon uniform had been tossed, but Batman had given him an old Batsuit. It had much more protection than the Talon suit had (being made of more than just fabric), and was therefore heavier. But not heavy enough to impede his movements, which he appreciated. It was an incredibly dark grey, and fit almost perfectly. Dick's suit was black. Both suits had probably been made for when Red Wing got a bit taller. And of course, the belt full of knives strapped around his chest had been replaced with one full of batarangs around his waist.

It was more than just the suit. He was different inside too. As Talon, all he had had was the next assignment. He'd tried to bury his emotions like the Court wanted, but he couldn't. It had lead to a lot of time spent in the punishment room. But now he had a brother, and a child he could protect, and a butler who made the greatest food he had ever tasted, and Batman. He wasn't sure how to describe their relationship...

Not the point. The point was, he could feel things again, as many as he wanted, without getting punished for it. And he had people around him who he could talk with, laugh with, fight with, get to know. He could be... happy? No, he didn't think he could be happy. Didn't deserve it. Not with all the people he's killed. But maybe he could be content? He would like to be content.

The charges they placed in cold storage and the punishment room were tiny, the exact same shade as the walls, and positioned in the many shadowed corners the rooms had. Hood knew where all the secret compartments in the punishment room were – lots of time spent here – and put a bomb in each one. He had to admit, Red was right. Blowing this place sky high would make him feel a bit better.

The Call room was easy to find using a scanner Batman had thrown together. It followed the Call to its source, a tiny room hidden behind a statue of one of the earliest Grandmasters. It only took a minute for Batman and Red Wing to disassemble the machine and destroy the parts. Batman had said back in the Batcave that he would keep an eye on shipments of any of the components. If the Court tried to rebuild the Call, he would stop it.

Finally, all that was left was the Parliament room. The meeting would be starting in half an hour. Plenty of time for the intruders to sneak in, plant gas canisters under every fourth chair, and hide in the rafters with respirators ready.

Hood watched as the Court slowly filed in from the door at the back of the room, the one reserved for Owls. First the lower Owls. All funds, no social status. Then the middle Owls, those who had status, but minimal cash; great connections, but no way to fund the Court's enterprises. And finally, the high Owls, the rare few who had money, social status, and a long history in Gotham. Most of their families went back centuries. The Grandmaster strode in last, all important and pompous.

When the Grandmaster planted his robed behind on his chair, ready to address the circle of Owls around him, Batman pressed the button on his controller. There was a barely perceptible hiss of gas, and a faint cloud. Before any of the Owls could react, they were unconscious. Hood smiled and followed the others to the floor.

Wait. Something was wrong.

His feet had barely touched the floor when Talons dropped down, from an even higher set of rafters. At least two dozen. Normally, Hood would scoff at the thought of fighting twenty guys, heck, bring on thirty, forty, even if they were all armed to the teeth with swords and daggers. But not Talons. Talons, he would run from. Unfortunately, there was a crowd of them between him and the only door.

He sidled closer to Dick. "When you have a chance, take the other two and run. I'll cover your retreat."

"What? No. We all get out of this."

"Not possible Dickie. And I'm not letting them take your name again. You're getting out of here, keeping Red Wing safe for as long as you can. And Batman. Gotham needs him Dick, not me. I'll be fine." He pulled a few batarangs and held them between his fingers like knives. He didn't have his sword, but this would give his punches a little more spunk. "Go!" And with that last whispered word, he launched himself at the Talons by the door, knocking them away only by virtue of surprise. He was incredibly pleased to see Dick follow his advice, pulling a protesting Batman and Red Wing behind him.

He dashed down the corridor a bit. He would have a better chance if only one or two Talons could reach him at a time. "Bring it."

And they did. He lasted a lot longer than he thought he would. He fought with all he had, ripping and tearing Talons apart, only to have them stand back up and reengage. It was a full half hour before he started to falter, and another ten minutes before he received his first fatal injury. He fell to the ground, gasping and choking as he healed the long slice going through both lungs. The Talons wasted no time cuffing his hands behind his back, uncomfortably tight. Then, they pulled the cable out of his grapple and started trussing him up.

 _Sorry Dick. Not coming. But at least I gave you enough time to get away._

A pair of feet appeared in his line of sight, then someone grabbed his hair. His head was pulled up to face Cobb. "I know what you're thinking. You held us off. Good for you! But there's one thing you didn't think of." Cobb leaned in close, mouth by Hood's ear. "Not all of the Talons were in the Parliament room. We had others in the labyrinth. Don't worry. You'll see your fellow traitor and your co-conspirators soon enough."

Cobb dropped his head after that. As he was dragged off, it was all he could do to keep the tears from slipping down his face.

* * *

"Dick, no, we have to go back for him!"

Dick really wished Tim would stop asking. Didn't he know how hard this was? He had promised, so many times, to keep Hood safe, and so many times, he had failed. Now, he was running, trying to keep another brother safe, keep Batman safe. Hood was right. Gotham needed Batman. He was the only one trying to make a difference, the only one succeeding. And not just that. If anyone had a chance to save Hood after this was over, it was Batman. He had to get them out of here.

So he held back the tears and he ran for an exit. One of the locked ones, the ones that would sound an alarm if they were opened. Not that an alarm would matter now. The Talons already knew they were here. If they could make this, they could get to the surface, they could be home free.

He was picking the lock when he heard footsteps behind him. The lock clicked, and he slowly stood and turned. "Batman. Take Red Wing and run." He pulled a pair of escrima sticks from his belt. They were weighted, with a smaller surface area than his fists. These would hurt the Talons more. "Don't argue, just go. Just... please... don't forget us."

He looked back at the man standing behind him. He was going to stay. He could see it in the Bat's posture, in the determined set of his mouth. With a sigh, he pushed the crime fighters through the door, locking it shut and shoving a batarang into the keyhole. No way to open that door now.

When he eventually fell, half a labyrinth away, the Talons decided against using handcuffs. Instead, they used his own belt to strap his arms to his chest, then the cable from the grapple gun Bruce had given him. _I'm coming Little Wing._

* * *

Batman went back of course. He had a drug, not ready in time for the first, disastrous raid on the Court, that would render a Talon unconscious for up to twenty four hours. Talons normally metabolized sedatives within ten minutes, so this was a great accomplishment. An accomplishment that felt like a failure.

Not the first one today. Red hoodie. Hood had been found in a red hoodie. And Jason, Jason Todd, the ten year old boy who had stolen his tires four years ago, had worn a red hoodie. Hood had been taken when he was ten, four years ago. He pulled up a picture of the boy. Once he was looking for them, the similarities were unmistakable.

How had he not noticed these before? World's Greatest Detective? Yeah, right.

He had found Hood's name. Right when it was too late to look for him. He had gone back to the Court, but the place was abandoned. Flooded, actually. Ceilings blown out with the very charges he had placed there. So here he was, in front of his computer once again, trying to get a lock on the tracking devices in their suits. No luck so far. Nothing.

The computer flashed a warning. Bank robbery downtown. The timing could not be worse. He went, stopped the robbery, as per usual. Well, not quite. As he left, he heard the medic complain about the large number of broken bones the robbers had sustained.

Well, if the robbers didn't want their bones broken, they shouldn't have robbed a bank while he was looking for Dick and Jason. The boys he had placed under _his_ protection and they were gone. He drove back to the Cave, his speedometer never dipping below 160. He barely parked, sending the car much closer to the edge than he usually did, before jumping out and dashing back to the computer.

Alfred was already there, as was Tim, even though he had been sent to bed more than an hour ago. He was running a search algorithm that checked the traffic cams for facial matches. So far, he had turned up over two hundred matches, and was going through each one, rejecting every one that wasn't the missing boys. So far, that meant all of them.

Suddenly, there was a crackle of static. Both crime fighters froze, looking for the source. With a chuckle, the comm. system in the computer came to life. "Hello. Batman, I presume. And possibly his little brat as well. Well, it's about time we spoke." The voice was cold, lifeless, amused.

Batman pressed the code sequence that would run a tracing program. "So, you know who I am, but I don't know who you are." But caller ID said that the comm. belonged to Dick, so he had a fairly good guess. The Court.

Another chuckle. "Of course, where are my manners? I am William Cobb, Richard's great grandfather. Well. Not Richard anymore. He goes by Acrobat again. But enough about him. Truly, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Of course, we have met before. You took my eye out, it was very difficult to regrow."

"Was it? That's unfortunate. Anything else I broke? Your leg? Your spleen?" Dick was going by Acrobat again? They had taken his name? The failures kept stacking up.

"If you're trying to trace this call, don't bother. We have it running through a Court scrambler. I just wanted to thank you for taking such good care of our property. Say hello boys!"

There was dual groans of pain. Tim sat up in his chair at the sound, and Bruce got a sick feeling that he knew what this call was really about. He motioned for Alfred to take Tim upstairs. There was no reason for him to hear this. Either of them.

The psychopath was still talking though. "They've been amazingly silent ever since you brought them back to us. And we've asked them so many questions. You would not believe how many times they've demanded that we leave the other alone, go after them instead. Of course, standard... questioning techniques have been mostly ineffective, so I'm going to try something new. Now this, you can't see it, this is audio only, this is something I thought up a few years ago. I've tried it on a few targets, but they never lived too long. But with a Talon's natural healing ability, these boys should last much longer, maybe long enough to complete the test."

Bruce felt his heart thumping. No, this couldn't be happening. The trace came up negative, so he started analyzing background noises. What little there were.

"I originally developed these for assassinations you know. Just place the device and it would plant itself in whatever location I wanted it to. Wait a week, a month, a year, and a press of a button would kill the target instantly. And nothing leading back to the Court.

"I've modified them a bit, just for these two. It works like this. Two devices, I place them on each traitor's leg. The device sends out a probe that burrows under the skin, and travels, and doesn't activate until it reaches its destination. One device has a bomb, the other has a trigger. It's a combination of a timed and proximity trigger. So as long as the bomb is near the trigger for more than six hours, it'll go off. Since these tools are so fond of each other, I thought it was a good idea. Now, here's the best part. Talons are so extraordinarily resilient, they tend to push out foreign bodies of matter within five minutes. But not things in the skull."

No.

"There's no muscles in there to expand and contract and remove the object."

No.

"So, this little device will travel under their skin,"

 _No._

"and travel until it hits their brains. Right in the middle."

 _No, this couldn't be happening._

"Don't worry, it's very small once it reaches this point. Won't cause any damage. But of course, any type of brain surgery there will more likely damage the brain than fix the problem. Not that it matters. These tools won't make it to a surgeon. I said six hours from start to finish. In five and a half, I will give you their location. In five and fifty-five minutes, you'll find them."

"Now, I just wanted to mention. We could have reprogrammed them. We really could have. It would have taken quite a bit of effort to do so, but it could have been done. Really, we have put far too much into these tools to just put them to waste like this. But see...? You got involved. You got involved and took our Talons into your life. So this is for you, just as much as it is for them. Goodbye Batman."

There was a clatter as Cobb dropped the comm. to the ground. There was a pair of whirrs, then two grunts, one after the other. And then, nothing.

* * *

 **AN: Oh! Wow! That doesn't sound good at all! Ah, why would I do that? I love these characters!**

 **... Which is probably why I did that actually... Hm.**

 **Anyways, do your best to read and enjoy! If you actually enjoyed, don't tell people, they'll look at you funny. Loxie out!**


	10. 10 - Spiralling

**Spiralling**

* * *

The only sounds coming from the comm. were bitten back shouts of pain and muttered curses. Tim was fighting to hold back tears. Bruce had sent him upstairs, trying to protect him, but he had forgotten the comm. unit Tim had had in his pocket. He'd heard everything. He was still hearing everything.

"Dick? Hood? Can you hear me?"

Nothing.

"Please, answer me. Dick, we found Hood's name. Please, we know who he was. Bats hasn't told me, but I know he knows. Your name got taken, but we can give that back too. We can give them both back." If the Talons could hear, no matter what state they were in, they would find some way to answer.

Nothing for a solid minute. Then, " _Hey, Acrobat?_ "

" _Yeah Hood?_ "

" _Think they'll... find us?_ "

" _'Course Little Wing. Why -agh- why wouldn't they?_ "

" _I'm not sure I'm worth it. You have hope in you Acrobat. You can be a hero. I saw the record... of your -urgh- assignments. Nothing worse than... the murder of a corrupt political figure. I've done a lot worse._ "

Tim shook his head. Hood couldn't hear him, but he spoke anyways. "No Hood. No. What you did then wasn't your fault."

Dick seemed to have the same idea. " _Not your fault Little Wing. Not... your... faul...t._ "

Hood let out a small, pained chuckle. " _Good idea. Can't feel it if you're unconscious. Don't worry. I'll keep watch._ " He gave out a gasp, then a slow inhale. The quality on this call was really good. Near perfect clarity. Tim stifled a sob. " _You had a name, right? I remember calling you something else. But it's... ow, it's gone._ " Hood fell silent.

There was a few hours of this, silence with nothing to distract Tim from his thoughts. Hood and Dick were not here. They were hurt and not only could he do nothing to find them, he was stuck in his room. Alfred was "dusting" outside, probably to keep him from running off. He just... felt so useless! He opened the feed to the Batcave on his computer. He'd planted a camera there a few days ago, which Bats had obviously found within the hour. But he hadn't found the secondary camera, the one that was smaller and better hidden. Not as good quality, but better than nothing.

Bruce was typing frantically. A million windows were plastered across the screens, with traffic cams of all locations and angles displayed. He'd hacked the financial records of every potential Owl he knew of, looking for purchased houses, warehouses, sheds, bolt holes, boats, anything and everything that was big enough to hold two Talons.

Talons? Tim didn't want to call them Talons anymore. Because they weren't. Talons were cold, calculating, horrible. Murderers. Dick and Hood were warm and full of laughter and they could bring so much goodness to this world if they were given the chance.

Dick had called him a brother. So that was what he was. Timothy Jackson Drake, adopted son of Bryce Wayne, vigilante Red Wing, and the younger brother of Richard John Grayson and Hood.

...That last part sounded weird. He'd have to get Hood's name from Bruce later.

Tim was just about to open a feed to the Batcomputer, to lend a hand, when an alert flared across the screen. Joker again, this time with Ivy. Already, they were planting bombs downtown. Most likely some mix of Joker toxin and pheromone pollen. Bruce flexed his hands in his gloves, obviously conflicted.

Finally, he pulled his cowl over his head and headed for the Batmobile, locking down the Batcomputer to finish the tasks without him.

Of course, now Tim couldn't help with that either. With a cry of frustration, he slammed his fist into the ground. Then, again. And again. It wasn't a productive use of his energy, in any way, shape, or format, but it was very satisfying. Right up until his knuckles started bleeding, and a little after.

He probably would have kept going, but a sound from the comm. brought him out of his stupor, diving for the dropped and forgotten unit to better hear everything that was said.

" _Ahhh ah, ow, that was my intestine. Hate gut wounds. The acid goes ever-ahhhowow-where. Yeah, yeah, Cobb. I can see your little camera. Not gonna make me scream._ "

There was a muffled beep, followed by a series of thuds and an electrical whine. When it stopped, Hood lay panting for a minute, then laughed. " _Nope. Nice try. Electrocution always sucks. Be careful though. Don't want to waste the battery on this thing or it won't have enough juice to kill me._ "

There was a groan. " _You up Acrobat?_ "

" _I... yeah, I oh, OW! That's..._ "

" _Stomach acid. Yeah._ "

" _Hate it when that happens._ " There was a cough, then scraping as someone shifted position. " _Hood, about what you said earlier..._ " Another cough, this time from Hood. " _You're worth it Hood. You are._ "

" _No, I'm no-_ "

" _No! You are. Ow, shouldn't have shouted. Hood, I saw it four years ago, and I still see it. You're -ow- good. No, shut up, you are. You're not a Talon anymore. You can be... you can be a Robin._ "

" _Haha-ow-ha. A what?_ "

" _A Robin. That's what my mooo-ow-oom used to call me. Her little bird on the trapeze._ "

" _I'm not a Robin Acrobat. I've never been on a trapeze. Ouch. How do you even remember this? They took your name again._ " A whimper. Tim wasn't sure who it was from.

" _They didn't know I remembered it, so they didn't -agh- know to take it away. And that's not the point you brat._ " Somehow, they managed to share a laugh. " _What I mean is, you're still bright. Not innocent anymore, you've seen too much. But you glow with life, with goodness._ " There was a moment of silence. " _You said I had hope in me. That was because of you Little Wing. Before I -urgh- met you, I did horrible things. I wasn't a... person. But I saw you and I rebuilt myself around being your brother. You just have to rebuild yourself too._ _You don't believe me. I can see it. Don't -ah- worry. You will. You'll see it some day._ " There was some more shifting. " _Hm? Hood? What's -ow- that?_ "

" _It's a comm... The comm. Batman gave us._ "

* * *

Jimmy the Snake was a low level thug. Of course, he fancied himself the next Falcone, but so did half the people in his gang. They'd gotten picked up recently, to help keep the Bat away while Joker and Ivy set up their latest "destroy Gotham" plan. A good plan, but they would need more than the measly hundred guys they'd gotten if they really wanted to keep the Bat off of them. Good pay though. Which was the only reason Jimmy the Snake was standing here, holding a semi-automatic and trying to look tough. Fairly easy when he stood at 6'4" and had a face that looked like it'd been through a blender.

Not the point. Point was, he'd been around the block. He'd seen the Bat take out twice this many guys with a paper clip and seventeen oranges. That had been a day. But he'd never seen this.

They saw the Bat coming. That was unusual enough. Normally, he snuck up on them, swooped down from the nearest tall building. And there were a _lot_ of tall building to choose from. But instead he drove in, right up main street like it was nothing. Then, still half a block away, he launched himself out. Honest to God launched. The... what was it... momentum threw him over the heads of the small army Ivy had collected and right into Joker. Seriously, his feet landed on Joker's face. Before the clown could fall, he was pushing off, flying back into the crowd.

And that was where things got surreal. The Bat was the most seamless fighter Jimmy had ever seen. The absolute best. Of course, one day, Jimmy would get lucky and take the Bat out – blaming it on his mad skills of course – but that was for later. When he had time to cement his criminal empire. This though...

He was fighting like the thugs he took out. All heavy fists and no finesse. Bats usually moved like water, but now he was like a jerky automaton. Rigid punch, followed by rigid kick, then rigid elbow to the suddenly less rigid rib cage. Not only that, but he was getting injured and stuff. Greggie Manfred scored himself a blow to the ribs, and Greggie was the worst fighter in Jimmy's outfit. Jimmy himself managed to sneak up on the Bat and ram a knife into his side. Skittered off the Kevlar, missed the kidneys, but it was in there. On any other day, he would have been over the moon about this. Jimmy the Snake, and he slithered in and stabbed the Bat.

But he had _snuck up_ on the Bat. People don't just sneak up on the Bat. This one time, Jimmy had watched Annie Grimes sneak up on him. The warehouse they'd been in had been incredibly noisy, and Annie had always been quiet. But just as she'd been about to blow his brains out point blank, he'd reached over his shoulder, grabbed the barrel of the gun, and had Annie face first on the ground and cuffed before anyone could blink. People didn't just sneak up on the Bat. Didn't matter if it was in a noisy warehouse or a noisy fight, it didn't happen. But Jimmy had.

So excuse Jimmy for being a little worried. Bats was his greatest nemesis, and Jimmy the Snake was Bat's (well, one day). But he couldn't rise to the top of the top if he didn't have the Bat to oppose him. Sure, Red Wing would be fine, seeing as he wasn't here or nothing, but there was no glory to be grabbed by fighting someone half his age for the rest of his life.

His worry lasted right up until Bat's got a hold of him. Jimmy had been keeping count. The Bat had a few broken ribs, a sprained ankle, four bullet holes and half a dozen knife wounds, but he still managed to grab Jimmy by the head, snap both of his arms, beat him half senseless, and drop him, all in the span of about ten seconds.

Bats could go screw himself. Clearly, he was fine.

* * *

If Batman had been thinking clearly, he would be worried about how he was behaving. Of the hundred or so thugs that were in the area, he had maybe twenty left, and he was starting to wear down. He couldn't quite curl the fingers on his right hand into a proper fist anymore. Repeated connections with one too many thugs' faces. Not only were they bruised, they were bleeding under his gloves and one of them was dislocated. But he wasn't. Worried, that is. All he could think about was the missing boys, their feed still coming through the comm.

 _THUD_

A small moan of pain, its intensity in no way affected by its size.

 _THUD THUD BAM CRUNCH_

Even unconscious, Dick cried out, louder than he would have if he'd been awake.

 _WHAM CRACK THUD CRUNCH_

The loudest noise that came from Hood was a whimper, but Batman could hear the suppressed screams in every one.

 _THUD THUD THUD THUd THud Thud thud thud ..._

The criminal he had in his hands was begging for him to stop. His entire face was a swollen bleeding mask. Barely aware of his surroundings, Batman stood up. The one he had been beating to death had been the last one, so he slowly turned to Joker and Ivy, who were still here for whatever reason. He shot out his grapple gun, reeling himself in so he flew right past Joker, arm-barring him in the throat. While the Joker wheezed chuckles, he turned to Ivy.

Something in his face made her surrender immediately. The Joker just kept laughing. "Haha- _wheeze_ -hahaha. Batsy! I love this... new side to you."

Later, much later, Batman would remember Joker's words and be horrified. After all, he _had_ just beaten a hundred people half to death with nothing more than his fists. But right now, Dick and Hood needed him. These people were standing between him and finding them. So, with a simple, decisive punch, he knocked Joker unconscious. "Shut up."

He knocked out Ivy, cuffed both villains, and shut down their machine. It looked like it would spread pollen, laced with Joker Gas, into the air. The pollen would kill off the humans, Ivy would get her plant paradise, Joker would get his laugh, the standard fare for these kind of scenarios.

He took a few samples, less neatly than usual, then called the Batmobile. He had to admit, he had stopped listening to the comm. when the Joker had spoken to him. He tuned back in, just in time to hear Hood say, " _The comm. Batman gave us._ "

He took the Batmobile at max speed back to the Cave.

* * *

"It's a comm..." Urgh. Ah, that one hurt. Whatever Cobb had put on them, it was moving. Slowly. "The comm. Batman gave us." And it was cold. So cold. Probably coated in -ow- that anti-Talon juice. Or secreting it or something.

He tried to move closer to the comm., to try and turn it on, but was stopped by an intense pain every time he moved his leg. Ah. Ow. Right. The thing had drilled through his pelvis. Hadn't healed yet.

Acrobat was moving to the comm. too, and making better progress than Hood was. Just looking at him hurt. Not because of the torment they were both going through, although that was... hhnngghh-ow. Moving hurt. Breathing hurt. Where was he?

Acrobat. Acrobat had a name. He did. And it was there, hovering at the edge of his brain. It reminded him of that time the Court had run out of anti-Talon juice, but he had back-talked one of the Owls for the millionth time. They had tossed him in a large pit for a week. The sides had been beveled so the bottom was wider than the top. No food, no water. Once, day six or so, they had dangled a water bottle on a string at him. It had been agony, being so close to grabbing it, but every time his fingers barely grazed it.

This was worse.

Acrobat was at the comm. With a final grunt, he grabbed it, pulling it closer to his chest, a movement which made Hood realize that his arm was broken. Not surprising. With this what-ever-it-was in them, their bodies weren't focusing on healing little things like broken bones and contusions. Hood himself had fourteen broken bones and... um. He hadn't counted the cuts. But there were a lot.

Crawling closer to Acrobat, he saw that the older Talon had almost managed to find the switch. Honestly, these Bat-people and not labeling their tech. He flipped the switch, and almost immediately, there was a screaming from Hood's abdomen. Acrobat's too from the way he cried out.

The thing had reached his diaphragm. Already, he was having trouble breathing. But his hearing still worked. And thankfully, there was a voice talking at them.

" _Hood! Dick! Are you alright?_ " Red. He was safe. The Talons let out a sigh of relief.

Wait. What did he say? "Dick? Is that Acrobat's name?"

" _Yes! Richard John Grayson! But Hood, you said that Dick suited him_ better." His name, his name, his name. Dick Grayson. The relief that poured through Hood was better than when they had finally let him out of the pit and allowed him to drink. Of course, the water they had given him had been laced with poison, but still. " _Where are you two?_ "

For the first time, Hood took a look at his surroundings. "Not a building. A cavern. And not one I recognize, so not anywhere near the Court."

Acrobat – _Dick_ – coughed, then chimed in. "Walls are dry. Not close to any water source. And there's a tiny bit of light coming from a hole in the ceiling. Can't see anything though. Just sky."

"Rock is grey. Don't know if that helps." The thing traveling through him felt like it was trailing something. Like a string thing that kept it attached to the device still latching on to his leg. If he could, he would pull it out. But the device had its claws in deep, sinking into his femur. And with his hands on a short chain attached to his neck, there wasn't any good position to pull it off.

Breathing got really difficult all of a sudden. The thing, it was eating through a lung, at an angle. Why at an angle? "Red, we won't be able to... talk pretty soon. Just wanted to say... I don't regret a minute of it. Those two free weeks - _wheeze_ -were the best in my... life. I think - _gasp_ \- my whole life, even the before stuff. So thanks. And you need... to work on defending from attacks... coming from your left." His lung was filling with blood. He coughed out a damp cough, feeling the red trickle down his chin.

" _What are you talking about? Tell me all of this later Hood._ " There was the sound of keys clicking. Was Tim trying to find them?

Another breathless cough from Dick. "Sure, but we want... to tell you now too Red. Ha. What kind of brother... am I? One of you is dying right - _gasp_ \- next to me, and I'm leaving the other one to fend for himself."

Was it just him, or was his intestine healing? " _You're not! You're not leaving me! We're going to find you and you're going to be fine!_ "

"Sure Red. But hey, while I... have you, I just wanted to say thanks as well. You gave... me my memories... back. You know, I'd given up... on them? But you - _cough_ \- gave them back, just like you and Hood gave back... my self. Without you two, I'd probably be... another Cobb. You're my brothers, and I'll always... love you."

Hood wanted to reply. But the thing chose that moment to finish with his first lung and start in on his second.

Suddenly, there wasn't enough air. He gasped, sucking in air and having none of it do a lick of good. Beside him, Dick was wheezing and still trying to rasp out words, but there wasn't any air.

His lungs burned, or, the parts of them not ruined by the thing did. Those parts were cold, freezing him from the inside out. Pressure started building in his head. He wasn't getting enough air, he wasn't getting any air!

Tim was shouting. " _...at's going on? Are you two alr... ... alk to m... ...ease Hood, Dick! Say som..._ "

His lungs were burning and still the thing kept moving. Faster now. No apparent reason. His chest was heaving, taking in massive quantities of air and losing most of it. Blood rushed in from the millions of openings. Every exhale had a river following it, every inhale rattled and sloshed. Dick, his friend, his _brother_ , was facing him. Together, they slipped into darkness.

* * *

 **AN: By the way, that bit at the end where Tim is cutting out? Yeah, the comm. is fine. That's Hood. His brain isn't working right because it isn't getting enough oxygen.**

 **Don't worry about them dying from the lack of air though. They're Talons. They'll bounce back. It would be a pretty crappy fic if they died before I was done tormenting them.**

 **Yes! I know already! I'm terrible! Shout it to the heavens why don't you!? Actually, no, I want to do that.**

 **Read and secretly enjoy people! Because this is the second last chapter.**


	11. 11 - Darkest Before the Dawn

**Darkest Before the Dawn**

* * *

Dick woke, to a flare of pain in his throat. The thing was crawling up his spinal column. His vision whited out, and he _screamed_...

...Nothing. The pain stopped. He could feel it, small as a pea, crawling into his brain, but there was no more pain. No pain receptors that far in, he supposed. Taking a cautious breath – one of his lungs was healed – he coughed out a few blood clots. He still couldn't talk though. The thing had decided to take a stroll through his vocal cords before nestling in his skull.

He let out a groan, the only sound he could make, and poked at Hood. His little brother was already awake, probably for the same reason Dick was. As soon as his vocal cords healed, he asked, "What happened? Is it over?"

There was a noise from the comm., Tim falling out of his chair from the sounds of it. " _Dick? Are you alright? You went silent for an hour and twenty minutes_."

"I... think so? The thing stopped moving, but it's in my brain now. Little Wing, you too?" Hood nodded. "Hood too. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

" _You... don't? But Cobb explained it!_ "

Hood raised his eyebrows. "Did he? Must have been before our ears healed." At Tim's questioning noise, he coughed out a laugh (and four or five blood clots). "They broke our ear drums a few minutes before they put these things on our legs. Why? What does it do?"

Tim stuttered for a moment, before Bruce's voice came on the line. " _I've got this Tim. Go suit up._ " Sounds of foot steps, and a sigh. " _The device that Cobb implanted in you is a bomb._ " Dick's blood ran cold. A what? " _More specifically, one is a bomb and the other is a trigger. I'm not sure which is which._ "

Dick looked down at the device on his leg, then the one on Hood's. In the weak light, he couldn't see any differences. "They look the same."

" _It doesn't really matter at this point. It's a proximity trigger. As long as you two are close to each other, it'll go off. In about forty five minutes._ "

Dick looked around. The chamber they were in was small. Not that Cobb would give them a room bigger than the proximity radius of the trigger. And with his hands chained to his neck and his legs taped from foot to mid thigh, there was no way for him to reach the hole in the ceiling, let alone climb out of it and crawl away. "Nothing to be done then?"

" _No! Do not give up! I will find you, I promise!_ "

He simply nodded wearily. "Sure thing Bats. See you when you get here." Nudging the comm. away, he stared at it for a moment. Batman had never let him down before, but there hadn't been too many opportunities for him to do so. Still. There was no reason for him not to hope. And in the end, if Batman didn't come, he wouldn't know.

He shifted closer to Hood, startled and upset when the younger Talon shifted away. "Stay away from me Dickie. A bomb this size can't kill you if you're a few feet away. Worst that'll happen is you get splattered with a bit of brain matter." He offered up a rueful smile, sad and lonely.

"What? No, Little Wing, you don't even know if you are the bomb! It could be me!"

But Hood was shaking his head. "It's not. I can hear it ticking, and triggers don't tick."

That was true. And try as he might, Dick couldn't hear a single sound inside his head. "Please Little Wing. Batman said we have forty five minutes." A tear trickled down his face.

Hood sighed, sounding for all the world like an indulgent uncle. "Fine. But only thirty five. I'm not risking you if this thing blows early."

They shifted until they were shoulder to shoulder. For the millionth time that day, Dick cursed the way the Court had bound them. He couldn't do more than reach out and grab Hood's finger tips with his own.

They sat there, just sitting and being in each other's company. Listening as Batman and Red Wing started the Batmobile, ready to go to the first possible location, and the second, and the third.

* * *

Fifteen minutes and two failed locations later, there was a flash of static, and then a new voice barged their way into the conversation. " _Hello Batman. I told you that I would tell you where they were before their demise. And look at that, it's been five and a half hours since we last spoke. Now, you may not know this, but the ground under Gotham is littered with holes. Caverns. Really, the entire city should have collapsed by now. We found this one two weeks ago when we were searching for our Talons. Or searching for their corpses. It's under the warehouse the Joker blew up_." With a smug chuckle, Cobb let himself out of the conversation.

" _That's on the other side of the city. Batman, even at our top speed, we won't make it._ "

" _I know Red Wing. That's why I called the jet. Cobb didn't think of everything._ "

Not even five minutes later Batman and Red Wing fell through the opening. Both of them had a laptop in hand. "We don't have enough time to extract the bomb." Tim said by way of explanation while they picked the locks on their handcuffs. "But since there's a proximity trigger, we thought maybe we could hack the frequency it uses, change the programming."

Hood shook his head, rubbing his wrists as he sat up. "No time. Take Dick out of here. Get him out of range of the bomb, maybe we can shut it off."

Batman nodded, and within seconds, Tim and Dick were strapped in the jet and flying away. Then, the vigilante sat himself down with his laptop and started ticking away. "No reason I can't try and change the programming anyways."

Hood nodded and started working on the tape around his legs, carefully avoiding the device still attached to his thigh. Probably just a delivery system to get the bomb into his body. He hadn't noticed before, but it was in there really deep. Metal spikes, going right to his bone. He should probably pull it out, but he could do that once Batman finished reprogramming it. He didn't want to run the risk that touching the thing would make it explode.

Just for safety, he scooted a little further from the Bat, but almost immediately got pulled back. "Stay close. This is difficult enough without you adding distance."

"But if it goes off-"

"We have at least twenty minutes until it does."

"According to a Talon. Who wants to kill you." He tried to shift away again. This time, when Batman pulled him back, he _glared_. Hood had grown up in a group of immortal death machines, but he'd never seen a glare like that. It stunned him into silence for a few minutes.

He knew he couldn't, that there were no touch receptors in his brain that would allow him to, but he could swear he could feel the bomb, tucked up in the middle. He could hear it, his brain carrying the vibrations better than air ever could.

Batman swore suddenly. "It's not just tied to the trigger. It's tied to Gotham's geographic location. I can't stop it and without the plane, there's no way we'd get out fast enough."

Hood was silent for a minute. "So, as long as I'm in the city, I'm going to die?" Batman nodded. "Can you slow it down at least? I can handle never coming to Gotham, but I don't think Dick could handle never seeing me again."

There was a moment as Bruce searched the code. Finally, he nodded. "I'm not sure how much time I can give you, but I can do it." There was another few minutes of silence, then the Bat cleared his throat. "Um. What you said, right before going into the Court. You had been found in a red hoodie?"

"That's what they told me. Why?"

"About four years ago, I came across a child trying to steal the tires off of my car. He was wearing a red hoodie. And he bore a strong physical resemblance to you."

That took a moment. "Wait, so I tried to steal the wheels off of the Batmobile?"

"Almost succeeded. You had three off before I noticed. That's not the point though. I wanted to help you after that, try and get you into a position in life so you wouldn't have to steal tires to survive. I know your name. I could tell you now, if you wanted."

He thought about it. His name. His _name_. It had eluded him for years, and now he could get it back. It would probably be his only time to do so, if Batman couldn't figure this out. But... "Thanks, but not yet. I want Dick to be here for this." Batman nodded, as if he had expected no less, and went back to work.

Another minute or three of quiet. Then, "Batman? The ticking is getting louder."

"No! We should have another ten minutes, at least! I'm not done yet!"

"Ten minutes according to a psychopath!" Hood tried to scramble away, to get Batman out of the blast radius, but he was pulled back again.

"Not. Yet!" Batman growled.

Hood wanted to move again. He really did. But he didn't want to risk distracting Batman. So he sat, trying to ignore the steady, but increasingly loud ticking. Slowly, it changed into beeping.

When the beeping reached its loudest, he pressed his hands to his ears. It did nothing, but it made him feel better. He couldn't hear Batman anymore, but he could see his mouth moving. Batman probably couldn't see him. His eyes were riveted to the screen, his fingers flying across the keys.

The beeping was all he heard now, reverberating through his skull, his bones. And then something changed. "Batman, it's counting now! Twenty seconds!" He was probably shouting, and he couldn't hear Batman's reply. Nineteen, eighteen.

He tried to move again, but Batman's hand flashed out lightning fast and pulled him back before returning to the keyboard. Seventeen, sixteen, fifteen. At two, he would bolt. He wouldn't take Batman with him. Red Wing still needed a dad, and Gotham still needed a Batman.

Fourteen.

Thirteen.

Twelve.

On the outside, nothing had changed. Batman was typing, Hood was defending his ears from some unhearable noise. Inside, the beeping had started going out of sync with the countdown, going so fast it was almost a continuous whine. Batman was sitting with intense focus, working feverishly, almost desperately.

Three.

Two.

Hood dived away. Tried to. Batman already had his hand out, grabbing Hood's arm and slamming him down.

One.

With a grunt, Batman hit one last key. The beeping stopped. The timer stopped. But the ticking was still there.

Batman sighed. "Safe. For now."

* * *

Dick didn't want to let go. Even with Hood pushing at his arms, trying to get him off, he didn't want to. His Little Wing had almost died. Again. And Dick hadn't been there. He could still die now and it would be his fault.

Batman hadn't brought Hood back straight away. He'd gone to a clinic first. The doctor, Leslie Thompkins, and old friend of Bruce Wayne, had done every scan under the sun to see if they could remove the bomb.

They couldn't. It had tendrils, and it had wrapped them around Hood's hypothalamus. They could get it out. But they would risk damaging the hypothalamus as well, which would most likely kill him.

They hadn't done any scans on him, but Dick's trigger was probably the same. If it wasn't for Batman, just being near Dick, being in Gotham, for more than six hours would kill Hood, and severely injure anyone in a three foot radius. As it was, they only had eighty three hours. Batman could give them that much time. Any longer, and the bomb was programmed to explode spontaneously.

And there was one more thing. The counter reset once a month. Twenty six days and thirteen hours to be exact. It all added up to one thing. Hood had to leave. And he had to leave Dick behind.

He didn't want to let go.

"I'm alright Dickie. I promise. This is a good thing. I can travel, see the world, do anything I want to. And I'll visit, all the time. I'll even text you if you promise not to spam me every five seconds for updates."

"No promises Little Wing."

"Yeah, didn't think so."

"You can't travel. You're only fourteen. You'll get lost or kidnapped or mugged or-" A thousand thousand possibilities, a thousand thousand dangers, and Dick wouldn't be there.

"I'm also a Talon. Ex-Talon. Anyone who tries will be sorry." Dick couldn't see Hood's face, but he could feel the smirk. Hood could handle himself, of course. But still.

"Um." A small voice off to the side spoke up. Tim. The only brother that Dick could still look after. "I don't want to interrupt..." He got cut off when Dick pulled him into the hug. Tim was surprised, Hood was surprised, Dick felt a teensy bit better. But it wasn't long before Tim started struggling too. "No, seriously, this is important. Bruce knows Hood's name."

"WHAT?!" In his shock, Dick loosened his grip, just enough for the other two to slip out. "He does? Since when? What is it?"

"Yes, since we were in the Court, and I don't know, he didn't tell me," Tim listed off as he rubbed a crick out of his neck. Hm. Dick didn't think his hugs were _that_ tight.

For the first time since the Court got their hands on them for a second time, a smile spread over Dick's face. No, not a smile. An expression of pure joy and excitement painted across his face. Smile was too small of a word, the sun was dim in comparison. They were currently in the medbay, Bruce was in front of the Batcomputer. Only one measly wall between him and his little brother's name and this wall had a door.

He grabbed Hood by the shirt, the same old suit he had dressed in before he left, now ratty and torn, but full of great handholds, and dragged him towards the Batcomputer. "Bruce! You know his name! What is it?"

* * *

Hood pulled back a little. After all this time, wanting, wondering. But what if Bruce was wrong? What if it wasn't his name? How would he know? For all he knew, his name could be Greg, Connor, Max, Phillip. All of them, none of them.

But... if it was wrong, would it matter? A name was a name. Even if it wasn't the same one it had been, it would still be his. He could take the name, make it his own.

They were getting closer to Bruce. Bruce was standing, turning towards them, still dressed in his Batsuit, but with the cowl down. No, no, no, he wasn't ready for this.

"I do. I was going to tell him back in the cavern, but he wanted to wait for you." Why did he have to mention that? Dick was beaming at him, brighter than before, if that was possible. "Are you ready Hood?"

No. Yes. No. Maybe? "Yes." Dammit. Stupid traitor mouth.

"Hood, your name is Jason Peter Todd."

Oh. He rolled it around in his head. Jason. Jason Peter Todd. Jason Todd. It felt... familiar. Right. Like pulling on an old, warm sweater. The name settled on his shoulders, feather light and heavier than anything. It was a new weight, a good weight, a weight he could most definitely live with. Jason.

Something wet slipped down his cheek. Hastily, he swiped at his eyes. Tried to. Dick was still holding his shirt, and he got in the way. Smiling, he looked up at his brother.

Dick smiled back. Softly, he said, "Hello. My name is Richard, but you can call me Dick."

"Hi Dick. My name is Jason. It's a pleasure to meet you."

* * *

 **AN: That's all folks!**

 **No, seriously, that's the end. Shoo.**

 **I don't know why, but having stuff in stories with round numbers always bothered me. This completely and totally random thing will happen in exactly 24 hours! Yeah, no. Things related to biology aren't that clockwork. Most things in life aren't that clockwork. Well. Clocks are.**

 **Why are you still reading this? It's the end! It's over. Go home! Nothing more to read and enjoy!**

 **...**

 **...**

 **Fine! Yes! There's going to be a sequel. I already have a bunch written. And it's going to be rated M because of some stuff that happens to Jason in it. Horrible, violent stuff. Look forward to it!**

 **ANYWAYS. I hope you did actually enjoy what you read. That's basically the reason I write things. For people to enjoy them. And if that person is just me, well, that's cool too.**

 **Have a good day people! See you in the next fic! Loxie, out!**


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